


August

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: A Year of Writing [8]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha Thorin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Bilbo Baggins, Omega Verse, Polyamory, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 25,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tales of Thorin and Bilbo in all the lives they live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aflame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's mother tells him the tales of how Hobbits came to be as they are.

Bilbo knew the tale of Hobbits - how they came to be, how they changed. They weren't always so gentle.

His mother told it to him, when he was young. Everyone said it was just a story, made up, but Bilbo believed every word that came out of his mother's mouth. She seemed so certain, so he was as well.

"Hobbit's weren't always so gentle - quite the opposite." She said. "We used to be different, our biology was different, our brains were wired different. Hobbit's were very loyal, Bilbo, to a fault sometimes."

He hadn't really understand that part when he was younger, but he did now.

"When Hobbits found a person or a group that was worth protecting, we grew wings that were so powerful they could control all the air around them with a single beat." His mother said, waving her fingers in his face excitedly. "Hobbits would be forever loyal to that person, no matter what they did or where they went, and from then on the Hobbit's instincts would move them to protect their person with everything they had."

"Why wings?" He'd asked.

"Why, to fly of course!"

Now that Hobbits were more placid, the fearsome instincts that once surfaced in them had all but faded away. His mother, however, was sure that they could return, if need be.

"I think it's why we don't travel." She whispered to him. "Besides the fact that Hobbits have no real need for adventure. But, Bilbo, our wings were enough to make _dragons_ afraid!"

So when the opportunity to take an adventure arose, Bilbo was reasonably cautious. He hadn't wanted to go. His home was his safe place - it was comforting, and familiar, and it was all he had of his parents now.

Still, off he went - it was ridiculous, really. The Dwarves were ridiculous. All of them. It was the worst decision he'd ever made.

And yet, he grew rather fond of them. After the goblin tunnels, and when Thorin Oakenshield had first embraced him...

He'd never felt more accepted until then. Never felt like he was a _part_ of something, let alone something so _good._

He should have expected it, truly, but he hadn't remembered his mother's tales until he grew wings that night. 

They were big, and absolutely covered in feathers the same colour as his hair. Half of them looked downy, like a newborn bird, and he found that he could move them just as easily as he could move a limb. 

The added weight was something to get used to. They made his shoulders ache for several hours, until he grew used to them, and was able to settle them into a position that was not so straining on his muscles. 

The air he could generate with them was surprising, too. It didn't take much to send a cold breeze swirling down his back. He spent quite a while trying to remember all the things his mother had said, but it was difficult.

Even more so was hiding them. He found that he could use his spare belt (thank Yavanna he'd packed one) to strap them down around hic chest, and while it wasn't exactly comfortable, the extra baulk was usually hidden behind his pack and could be explained away as an extra undershirt to fight off the cold.

While at Beorn's cottage, Bilbo was very restless. He could feel something stirring up inside of him - a desire to protect the company, it seemed, which had him remembering the finer details of his mother's story.

He supposed it was to be expected. He wanted the Dwarves, especially Thorin, to succeed in their journey. He wanted to make sure their journey was fulfilled, no matter what.  
Somehow, the wings gave him enough confidence to believe he could help them do that.

That confidence was one of the things that made it easy for him to rescue the company from the spiders, and from the confines of the cells in Mirkwood. It made it easy for him to vouch for Thorin in Laketown. 

"Why did you do that for me?" Thorin asked him, that night, as he came to join Bilbo in surveying the houses and walkways of the town. 

"I've told you." Bilbo answered. "After the goblin tunnels. That reason still stands, you know."

Thorin watched him. His eyes didn't seem as cold as they once were. "Have you ever heard tales of Erebor?"

Bilbo smiles a little. "One, but it's not much. My mother loved to tell me stories of the world."

"Would you like to hear more?" Thorin offered. 

Bilbo glanced up at him, eyes widening a little. "I-if you're willing."

He'd never forget the things Thorin told him that night, about the great halls and the statues and the mines filled with countless types of precious gems. 

About the day the dragon came, too. The death and the suffering and the downfall of Erebor.

He thought that with those things firm in his mind, coupled with the deep wounds he saw on Thorin's face as he spoke of it all, that he really could defeat a dragon.

Of course, thinking about slaying a dragon and doing it are very different things.

So much was weighing on his mind in the moments he travelled through the heart of Thorin's Erebor towards the treasury. Kili was injured, and had stayed in the town with his brother, Bofur and Oin, and Bilbo felt anxious because if something were to happen he wouldn't be there. The other Dwarves were all waiting for him, but something about the gold in the mountain was... _sickening._

Balin had told him of Gold Sickness, once, when he had unknowingly asked about the last Kings, and a voice in the back of his head was whispering it over and over.

_Thorin can't come in here, he'll succumb to it. I'll make sure he doesn't..._

They were unrealistic thoughts, but he couldn't help agreeing with them. He somehow thought it was possible. 

When the dragon awoke, he was so flustered that he barely had the thought to do anything but follow along with the Dwarves. When they were targeted, especially when Thorin leapt into the cavern and disappeared after Smaug for a brief few minutes, he could physically feel his wings stretching the belt to its limits. 

And then the dragon was gone, flying straight towards Laketown.

"It'll destroy them all." Balin whispered.

"Kili and Fili..." Bilbo started. 

Thorin glanced up, going rigid. "We must go back!" He shouts.

"Kili and Fili are still there!" Bilbo cries, pushing past him.

"Laddie, wait!"

Bilbo shoved past him, eyes firmly fixed on the dragon tearing towards the town. He thought nothing about flinging himself off the cliff, knowing that his wings would carry him through the air. 

And they _did._ They burst out from his clothes, as though the belt were nothing more than a piece of string, to beat at the air so smoothly that Bilbo hardly jolted.

 _"Bilbo!"_ Thorin shouted.

Bilbo couldn't hear him. The air smelt of dragon, acrid and poisonous. Smaug was approaching the town faster than Bilbo could keep up, and before he knew it the first jet of flames rained upon the houses.

When Bilbo finally reached the town, the heat from the fire was almost unbearable. "Kili!" He shouted, wings beating frantically as he hovered above the lake. "Fili! Bofur!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Bard's children being hurried along by the female Elf - Tauriel, he thought her name was.

"Let me out!"

His head whipped around. Several houses away, Bilbo could just make out Bard's face behind a set of bars.

He hurried over, gripping the bars. "Hello?"

"Halfling!" Bard exclaimed, peering at him with a frown. "Since when...?"

"How do I get you out?" He demands.

"Here." Bard thrusts a rope made of cloth at him. "Hook it around something secure- there! See that boat? Around that!"

Bilbo glanced behind him, and ducked down to do as instructed. The rope tightened around the end post of the boat, and after a moment of tenseness, the wall inhibiting Bard suddenly broke away.

Screams filled the air as another rain of fire fell upon the town.

"Where are the Dwarves?" Bilbo demands.

"They should be with the she-elf." Bard says, shaking debris off of himself. "I'm going onto the bell tower. Halfling, please find my children."

Bilbo paused for a moment, but nodded. 

Bard disappeared after that, and Bilbo projected himself back into the air. The dragon hadn't spotted him yet.

It took a moment, but he eventually noticed the bright auburn hair of Tauriel, and sped towards her. He was almost there when suddenly the dragon turned, opening its more to release another stream of fire right into their path.

"Fili!" Bilbo screamed, diving towards the path beside their boat. "Watch out!"

The Dwarves suddenly jerked at the sound of his voice, but Bilbo disregarded them. He dropped onto the wharf, tucking in his wings briefly as he ran past them towards the end, unfurling them at the last moment to leap into the air once more.

"Bilbo!" Kili called, leaning across the boat.

Bilbo dove towards the dragon, slamming into its snout with an awful thud. He tumbled to the side, bracing against the ferocious roar that the dragon aimed at him.

"Who do you think you are, _barrel-rider."_ Smaug snarled, baring his teeth. "To come charging at _me?"_

Bilbo flared his wings, eyes narrowing. "I'm a Hobbit." He states. 

Smaug growls, his wings lifting.

 _"Bilbo!"_ Kili screams.

Bilbo jolts up into the air, rising above Smaug. The dragon's head follows him, and then Smaug is leaping into the air behind him.

Tilting his wings, Bilbo dives out of the way of a stream of fire that singes the tips of his wings. It didn't hurt.

Smaug screeched, a deep and horrid noise as his wings beat the air and he rises well above Bilbo. The underside of his belly burns brightly as fire gathers atop his tongue, and Bilbo shoots off to the side to avoid being burned. 

He's panting when he rises again, swooping down over the tops of the houses. Beneath him, he spots the she-elf and his Dwarves, frantically scrambling over one another to focus their eyes on him.

"Bilbo!" Bofur shouts. "Your wings are on fire!"

Bilbo pauses at that, and glances back. His wings were indeed flickering with tiny replications of the flames that shot out of the dragon. He gasped, but quickly realised he felt no pain, and tried not to dwell on it.

Instead, he was distracted by Smaug roaring, and then another streak of fire was bathing the houses beneath him. He screamed in shock as the flames burned over the top of his head. His wings fumbled in the air again, and for a moment he lost control.

They flared back out just before he collapsed into a rooftop. He clings to the decaying chimney, trying to catch his breath as Smaug stalks closer, crushing the town beneath his great body.

Bilbo sucks in a deep breath, before forcing his wings out and launching himself into the air again. He rises and rises, manipulating the air around his feathers to propel himself up above the dragon's head. Smaug jerked, and then suddenly followed, easily overtaking Bilbo.

"You think you can out fly _me,_ halfing?" He snarls. "I'll snap your little wings before you can even call for help."

Bilbo backpedals a few paces, gritting his teeth. He flings himself upwards, above Smaug's head, before tumbling down across the dragon's back where it's head can't quite reach. Smaug roars again, twisting and turning in the air, and Bilbo takes the chance to swoop back down towards the town and circle the biggest bell tower. 

"Halfling!"

Bilbo fumbles, wings flapping furiously as he focuses on Bard's small figure on top of the tower. 

"Steady the dragon!"

"Shoot, no matter what!" Bilbo yells. "No matter what, you hear?"

He doesn't wait for Bard's reply, instead flying over towards the dragon yet again.

Smaug drops onto the town, snarling and baring his teeth.

"Smaug!" Bilbo shouts, wings flexing. The flames upon them had spread, covering his feathers with a light that didn't burn.

The dragon levelled his head with Bilbo's, tensing.

"Halfling, watch out!" Bard shouted.

Bilbo dove out of the way just in time as thick, black arrow whizzed above his head. He lifted his head to watch it pierce the fallen scale on Smaug's body.

It was like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs when Bilbo listened to Smaug's next piercing roar. The dragon's body twisted and writhed in pain as he rose into the air. 

Suddenly, the tip of Smaug's tail thrashed through the air and slammed into Bilbo. His vision went black for a moment, and then his wings went limp and he was falling, falling, falling...

 

Waking up was painful. His wings felt heavy, as did his arms. His stomach felt bruised beyond all repair, as did his shoulders and back.

"Bilbo."

A hand gripped his, tempting him to open his eyes.

"Thorin?" He croaked.

Thorin stroked his hand gently. "I'm glad to see you are awake."

"What happened?" Bilbo asks. 

"You happened." Thorin answers, gripping his hand tightly. "I'd like to ask you the same."

Bilbo struggles to sit up, and smiles appreciatively when Thorin moves to aid him. "I'm not quite sure myself..."

"Your wings." Thorin says, eyes downcast.

Bilbo glances at them, lifting on experimentally. "Ah..." He starts. They were all burned, the feathers charred and scarred. "Will they heal?"

"They are." Thorin answers. "They were much worse."

"How long...?" Bilbo frowns.

"You've been asleep for a month." Thorin tells him carefully. "A lot has happened since the dragon was felled."

"Kili and Fili!" Bilbo exclaims, eyes widening. "Are they alright? Is everyone alright?"

"Bilbo, calm." Thorin soothes. "Everyone is alright. The people of Laketown suffered heavy losses, but they're rebuilding in Dale, and Bard has been appointed king. He has much to thank you for."

"N-not really." Bilbo shakes his head.

"He's asked to be updated upon your awakening." Thorin says. "He would like to thank you properly."

"That's really not necessary..."

"I would like to, as well." Thorin tells him, catching his eyes. "Bilbo, what you did... you saved so many people, and most importantly of all, you risked your own life for my sister sons. Do you not understand what you've accomplished? I can never repay you."

"You don't need to." Bilbo says, eyes worried as he grips Thorin's hand tightly. "I would have done it either way."

"Why?" Thorin asks. "Why risk your life for us?"

"I..." Bilbo frowns, looking down. "I don't really have anyone else..."

Thorin reaches for him, pulling him into a soft embrace as he presses their foreheads together. "We'll fix that." He murmurs. "You, and me."

"That sounds nice." Bilbo admits, flushed.

Thorin smiles. "Then you best get better, shouldn't you?"


	2. Brooding Uncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all started with an innocent photo taken at the exact wrong time.

It all started with an innocent photo taken at the exact wrong time.

Bilbo knew Thorin very well, he'd say, considering they'd been together for too many years to count. Raising their technology-obsessed teenagers wasn't always easy, but they got along relatively well. Still, Thorin had this tendency to... brood. It was mostly his expression, Bilbo supposed, but he always looked vaguely grumpy. 

So when Kili sneakily snapped a picture of him, glaring down at his morning coffee with his hair pulled up in a messy bun, the whole household was effortlessly amused.

Except for Thorin, but he didn't really count.

Of course the teenager posted it online, too. Bilbo didn't use social media much, but he did use Instagram, mostly to keep in touch with his younger customers (he ran a successful tailoring shop, and the brides just loved having their gowns shown off online for all their friends to see). 

He tagged it "#BroodingUncle", and commented a snarky remark.

After that, it completely exploded across social media. People photo-shopped the cup of out Thorin's hand, so that he was glaring at something else, or they completely cut him out and stuck him on some other background.

It was hilarious. Bilbo often found himself searching the tag just to see what people came up with. Some people too it to a disturbing and kind of gross level, but they were few and far between, and were easily ignored. 

Thorin didn't like it at first, but he grew not to care.

Kili gained a lot of followers though. 

"A lot of people use Instagram like a photo album." He explained one night. "Lots of people are asking me about you, Uncle."

Thorin glanced up, but grew disinterested. He was busy fixing one of Frodo's toys, as the ten-year-old peered across the countertop.

Bilbo watched, eyebrows raised as Kili lifted his phone to snap another picture.

"Well, if you don't mind..." He grinned, tapping away.

Bilbo chuckled. "Just be responsible." He says lightly.

Kili nods, and presses a swift kiss to his cheek before dashing off. "I will!"

It happened a lot, after that. Photos of Thorin started appearing on Kili's Instagram more often, always tagged with a snarky remark that was more funny than malicious.

Bilbo often checked on Kili's instagram, just to make sure nothing too personal was released. Many people had taken to calling Thorin cute, and a lot of commenters seemed interested in their lives as a family. It was just an Instagram thing, Bilbo supposed.

"So you really don't mind?" Bilbo asks, as he sits with Thorin on the garden bench Thorin had built him for one of their anniversaries. 

Thorin shrugs, careful not to dislodge Bilbo's head from his shoulder. He had one arm wrapped tight around Bilbo's waist, the other gripping Bilbo's thigh as the smaller man cuddled into his chest. "It's just teenager stuff." He says. "It's not harmful, so I don't really mind."

Bilbo laughs, letting his head rest against Thorin's shoulder comfortably. "You're internet famous, you know."

Thorin chuckles, threading his fingers through Bilbo's hair gently as he presses a kiss to Bilbo's forehead. "If you say so."

They fell asleep, cuddled on the bench in the shade of their big oak tree, just like that.

And of course, Bilbo was extremely embarrassed to wake up and find a picture of them, both asleep, both rather intimately cuddled, posted on Kili's instagram.

_"#BroodingUncle loves #SweetUncle the most!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by an anon on tumblr~


	3. It Ended Long Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending time in the baths is Bilbo's favourite time.

Bilbo sighed deeply as he sunk into the hot baths of Erebor. The Dwarves had the forges running efficiently, so hot water was steady and readily available.

He hadn't felt this relaxed in ages. The journey had been the most stressful thing he'd ever done, and relaxing like this felt like the best experience he'd ever had.

The water was warmed to the perfect temperature, and filled with sweet-smelling bath salts that smoothed his skin and soothed the headaches he often had. Bilbo enjoyed spending time in the bath until his skin wrinkled and the water grew cold.

A knock on the door startles him for a moment.

"Bilbo?"

"Come in." He calls, relaxing into the water again.

Several weeks ago, when the forges were first fired up and began to heat the water storages, Bilbo had been in the midst of taking his first bath and Thorin had accidentally walked in. It was safe to say he hadn't ever been more mortified. He wasn't exactly body-conscious, but seeing Thorin in all his glory made him sink further into the water, flushing furiously.

After that, they took baths together frequently. Bilbo didn't know why, but spending time with Thorin when they were both so vulnerable, stripped bare, was very comforting. Like that even though they were so different, so damaged, so changed by the events of the journey, that they could still _connect_ in the barest of ways. 

It made Bilbo feel a little less alone.

And splashing Thorin with water also instilled a weird sort of joyous satisfaction within him, even though Thorin was less than amused.

Thorin entered the room with a towel in his arms. Bilbo glanced away respectfully, and didn't turn back until Thorin sunk into the water with a deep, guttural sigh. It was a rough day, then.

Bilbo carefully crept over, keeping to the seat in the bath so not as to slip into the deeper end. He nudged his way under Thorin's arm, resting against his chest comfortably. Thorin slipped his arm around Bilbo, stroking his waist subtly as the water stilled.

"Feel alright?" Bilbo asks quietly, peering up at him.

Thorin glanced down briefly, and his eyes were _tired._ He tilted his head back, and closed them off from Bilbo's view.

Bilbo lifted his arm across Thorin's broad chest, hugging him. Being a King was hard, that much was obvious. He sometimes wished he'd be able to help Thorin, to ease his burden, but he didn't know how.

"This is enough." Thorin whispers, as though he could possibly hear Bilbo's thoughts. "This... it's relaxing. Regaining Erebor, healing, mending old wounds... all of the stress caused by that ended long ago. I'd miss this if it were to not happen."

Bilbo smiles to himself, rubbing his wet cheek against Thorin's chest. "I feel the same." He says. 

Thorin squeezes his waist gently.

Again, the water stills.


	4. Fur-Lined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin lets out a strangled sound. "What if he's uncomfortable?"

When Bilbo had agreed to Thorin's proposal of a courtship, Thorin had been very relieved. He'd faced many dangers and tragedies in his life, but the idea of Bilbo's rejection had outweighed them all. 

Of course, he hadn't anticipated the subsequent embarrassments he'd undergo during the courtship. It wasn't that he was embarrassed to be with Bilbo - quite the opposite, actually - but he was admittedly affronted by the prospect of affection, despite wishing for it himself.

And of course, Bilbo was a very affectionate person. He seemed indifferent towards Thorin's embarrassment, and always respected boundaries. Even if he seemed just as red-cheeked half the time, he was never afraid to initiate contact.

So, it wasn't all that surprisingly that Thorin was having a mental breakdown when Bilbo fell asleep with his head cradled in the crook of Thorin's neck, nose buried in the fur of Thorin's cloak.

"Just wake him." Dwalin snorted, amused, even as Thorin sent him a withering glare. 

"If you're comfortable," Balin corrects, after viciously elbowing his brother in the ribs, "Why not just let the lad sleep?"

Thorin lets out a strangled sound. "What if he's uncomfortable?"

"Then he wouldn't have fallen asleep." Balin says, standing as he prepares himself to leave. "Thorin, if he were not comfortable, or if he did not trust you, he would not have allowed himself to rest. Be more confident in yourself."

Thorin nods, and watches the two leave, before relaxing a little. 

Balin was right - if Bilbo had no faith in him, then he would have not allowed himself to fall asleep. The Hobbit was wiser than Thorin was giving him credit for.

Still, it made him smile a little, and gently take Bilbo's soft hand in his own. The Hobbit snuffled, cuddling in closer. He remembered Bilbo once remarking that Thorin's cloak was rather soft.

If possible, his smile might have gotten a little wider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not be taking requests from the 7th up until the 21st due to my trial exams and the submission dates for my majors, so if you have anything you would like me to write please send it to me before this Friday ^_^
> 
> -
> 
> Inspired by [Kurosmind's](http://kurosmind.tumblr.com/) lovely piece of [fanart~](http://kurosmind.tumblr.com/post/125790030111/bilbo-is-tired-and-your-fur-is-comfy-thorin)


	5. Night Time Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all he could do was lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before he fell apart.

Waking up was never as painful as trying to fall asleep.

Bilbo pressed deeper into the voluptuous covers that adorned the bed Thorin shared with him. He twisted the pillow around, burying his face against the cold side, hoping it would cool his hot cheeks. 

It was worse, at night - the feelings that bottled up inside of him, somewhere deep and dark that spread like decay through his organs, numbing his mind to the world around him and making him unnecessarily angered or frustrated over the simplest of arguments.

Sometimes all he could do was lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before he fell apart.

It was harder without Thorin. With someone else there, breathing and struggling and squirming just like he was, it was so much easier to ignore anything that threatened to tear him apart, even when it was his own thoughts. 

Thorin was late that night. Being a King was difficult, and stressful, and there were many nights when Bilbo eventually drifted off before he made it back.

Tonight Bilbo was luckier.

Thorin slipped into the room before he managed to fall asleep, and after a few moments he crawled under the covers, dressed for bed with his braids unclasped.

"Thorin..." Bilbo whispered, moving closer.

"Did I wake you?" He murmured, pulling Bilbo into his arms as though the smaller man were his personal pillow.

Bilbo shook his head, rubbing his knees against Thorin's as he tucked his head under Thorin's chin. "I wasn't asleep."

Thorin rubs his back soothingly as he settles into the mattress. Bilbo can feel the strain leaving his body, muscle by muscle. They always slept better with someone else in the bed.

"Try to get some rest." He tells Thorin, reaching up a hand to cup the Dwarf's scratchy cheek.

Thorin chuckles. "I should be telling you that, âmralimê." He whispers tenderly, pressing a kiss to Bilbo's forehead.

Bilbo smiles, and strokes Thorin's cheek softly. "See you in the morning."


	6. Rumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is admitted to the hospital, battered and bruised.

Thorin was an Alpha, and a doctor.

That in itself was somewhat strange. Usually Alpha's went into positions of power, or into industries where physical strength was needed, like construction. That wasn't always the case, but it was the usual. 

They didn't often go into positions of care - doctors, child care workers, therapists, that sort of job - it wasn't generally what Alpha's were interested in.

But Thorin liked it. The methodical nature of his job was soothing, but because of it's unpredictable tendencies, it kept him interested and stimulated. 

Still, it sometimes shocked his patients that he was an Alpha - they didn't expect it, upon first glance at him. He had the stereotypical Alpha build, with the height, broad shoulders and a face full of sharp angles.

It was sometimes challenging. Paranoid Omega's often refused to be in a room with him, and some parents were hesitant to have their child cared for by him. He didn't hold anything against those people, because a lot of them had been abused or harassed by bad Alphas. He felt like it was his duty to care for them, nevertheless, and maybe show them that not all Alphas were bad.

Sometimes it was hard. He wanted to submit to his basic instincts, at times, when he inspected an Omega with abusive marks like bruises and cuts, or when he comforted a hurt child and their Beta parent who didn't know how to escape from a bad relationship. 

Some days it was just hard.

Today was one of those days.

After years and years of working at Erebor Hospital, he had found that most Omegas responded well to him now. Maybe it was because he constantly emitted calming scents, or because the Omega receptionists always assured them that he was not like the other Alphas, but either way, there were hardly any mishaps regarding his patients any more.

Then one day, a badly beaten Omega was admitted into his care.

The state of him had Thorin's instincts going crazy. Something about _this_ Omega wanted him to snarl and growl and act like nothing more than a _dog._

His name was Bilbo Baggins. He trembled when Thorin approached, making soft whimpering noises in the very back of his throat, as though he were afraid Thorin would hurt him.

Instead, Thorin gently cradled his hands, mindful of the scrapes marring his soft skin. "Hello, there." He starts, voice soft. "My name is Thorin."

Bilbo glanced up at him briefly, but couldn't keep eye contact for long.

Thorin wondered if an Alpha had beat him into submission.

"Want to tell me what happened?" Thorin coaxes, rubbing Bilbo's hand comfortingly. "It's alright if you can't."

Bilbo just shook his head, shaking.

"How about I fix you up, then?" Thorin says, standing. "Get you all patched up."

Bilbo lurches forwards, a high whine escaping from his lips as he desperately latches onto Thorin's wrist. 

Thorin cuddles him instinctively, cupping the back of Bilbo's head in his hand as he rumbles deep in his chest. "You're alright." He says firmly. "You're safe here, Bilbo. I'll keep you safe."

 

Thorin admitted him into the ward dedicated specifically to individual Omegas that needed overnight care of a non-specific kind. It was a more common occurrence that he would have thought - Omega's needing reassurance, or pregnancy help, or even to spend the night with a Beta or Alpha dedicated to their health and reassurance were placed in that ward. It wasn't uncommon.

"You're being particularly careful with that Omega." Balin, his Beta colleague and life-long friend, said as he came to stand beside Thorin.

"I think he's my mate." Thorin says, watching Bilbo through the window into his room, where the Omega was sleeping. 

Balin lifts a hand and grips his shoulders. "Are you sure?"

"No." Thorin says, frowning. "I couldn't catch his scent properly, it was too clouded with fear and stress."

"That's understandable." Balin soothes. "Just be careful with him."

"I will." Thorin said. He'd long since learned to accept regards like that, instead of taking them as an insult to his Alpha side. Some Alphas were unable to do so.

Balin wandered off after that, leaving Thorin to watch over the Omega.

 

"How are you feeling?" Thorin asks, as he enters Bilbo's room. Morning had come, and Thorin had never rushed to work so fast. He had no appointments until twelve, so he was able to go to Bilbo straight away.

The room smelt of him. Residual fear made Thorin's nose twitch, but otherwise, it just smelt... really good.

Bilbo blinks up at him, offering a wane smile. "Better..." He admits quietly.

Thorin smiles. "That's good."

He checked Bilbo's vitals, and carefully reapplied bandages to the cuts on his skin. His lip, which was split and bruised, had startled to heal nicely.

"Does anything hurt?" Thorin asks, after carefully securing a bandage around Bilbo's elbow. "Outstandingly, that is."

Bilbo shook his head. 

"Want to tell me what happened?" Thorin asks, voice soft. "Again, if you don't feel you're up to it-"

"It's okay." Bilbo interrupts him quietly. He tentatively reaches for Thorin's hand, and the Alpha doesn't hesitate to grip it comfortingly. "I don't feel so anxious anymore."

Thorin nods, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to pull on either the blankets or on his own white coat. "If you need to stop, then stop, alright? Don't push yourself."

Bilbo offers him another weak smile. "I'm not usually this... this _Omega."_ He says in a soft rush. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I just feel like I'm being controlled by my instincts."

"It's alright." Thorin soothes. "This is a safe place."

Bilbo nods, breathing in Thorin's scent deeply. "I work at a tailors shop." He pauses, even though he'd just started, and grips Thorin's hand tighter. "This Alpha came in once, with his friends, and he kept... kept bothering me..."

Thorin rumbles reassuringly, and gets another thankful look from Bilbo.

"I told him no, but he wouldn't take it as an answer." Bilbo says. "He said... he said that Omegas like me shouldn't turn down the only- the only chance we'd get at an Alpha like him, and..."

Thorin rubs the back of his hand reassuringly. He couldn't understand what that meant - Bilbo was beautiful, even when he was bruised and battered. He was handsome, but had a certain softness to him that gave away his Omega nature that Thorin was rather attracted to.

"It was dark when my shift ended." Bilbo says, voice growing quieter. "My manager had already gone home, so I locked up- and, when I went to leave, he was waiting- waiting outside for me..."

Thorin lifted a hand to brush away the tears collecting in Bilbo's eyes. "And he beat you." Thorin finishes.

Bilbo nods, ducking his head down. It was an act so submissive and fearful that Thorin's heart clenched painfully.

"Hey now," He says, trailing his fingers down to lift Bilbo's chin, "Don't do that. Nothing about this has made you any less of a person."

"I know." Bilbo admits weakly. "It's just, I was so... so _scared_ and he wouldn't stop even though it hurt, and... and..."

Thorin reaches for the Omega before he'd even realised it, he pulls Bilbo into his arms. Bilbo trembles against his chest, frantically breathing in the calming scents Thorin projects. 

"Don't worry, Bilbo. There's nothing to be afraid of anymore." Thorin soothes, rubbing his fingers against the tender skin at the back of Bilbo's neck firmly. "I'll keep you safe."

"You will?" Bilbo's big eyes turn up at him, wide and hopeful and tender.

Thorin reels, feeling as though he'd stepped across a line of some sort. Bilbo was still his _patient_ and he was still a professional _doctor_ \- if Bilbo wasn't his mate, then he'd surely broke a litany of rules by now-

"If you wish." He finally answers.

Bilbo's eyes lower. "I've never felt this before." He says quietly. "I don't even know how to describe it, but your scent, and the way you hold me..." His brows furrow for a moment longer. "I think we're mates."

Thorin feels his heart skip. "I think so too." He quickly admits. "But I don't want to take advantage of you and your feelings, especially not when you're like this."

Bilbo nods. "That's understandable." He says. "Thank you."

Thorin sighs, stroking his back. "It's the least I can do."

Bilbo nuzzles under his chin, smiling. "You've done your job, and taken care of me so well." He praises - it makes Thorin feel oddly pleased, maybe even a little proud. "Even though you're an Alpha."

Thorin chuckles. "I get that often." He says. "I just wanted people to know that not all Alphas are bad - a lot do, and I don't blame them, not with the way they come in."

Bilbo sighs, his breath puffing against Thorin's throat warmly. "Can you stay?" He asks, eyes pleading.

"If you want me to." Thorin answers. "I can stay for a little while."

Bilbo grins, but winces as the cut on his lip stretches. "Stay." He demands bossily.

Thorin chuckles again, and prompts Bilbo to lie down, before stretching out beside him. "Try not to jostle your bandages too much." He advises.

"I won't." Bilbo says, nudging against Thorin's arm insistently.

Thorin lifts it, and allows Bilbo to slot against his side. He strokes his fingers down Bilbo's spine, trying not to grin too much when Bilbo begins to purr at the affection.

"We're definitely mates." Bilbo decides, squirming happily. "I just know it."

"I think so too." 

"Do you want me as a mate?" Bilbo asks, peering up. "I mean, I'm not much to look at, especially not like this."

"You're handsome." Thorin says firmly, patting Bilbo's side. "Who wouldn't want an Omega as good looking as you?"

Bilbo purrs again, and the flood of pleased hormones that thicken the air has Thorin rumbling pleasurably. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do." Thorin answers. "If you're sure you want me, then I'd happily be your mate."

Bilbo grins, ignoring his lip this time. "I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned~! 
> 
> Happy birthday! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*  
> I hope I got the date right, haha~ Thank you for always supporting me, your comments and prompts are really encouraging and I don't know how far I would have made it if you weren't so dedicated <3
> 
> I hope you like Omegaverse as well as Doctor Thorin, haha (◍ ´꒳` ◍)b


	7. Instructor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo never learned to swim.

Bilbo never learned to swim.

Not many Hobbits did. The Brandywine River wasn't all that deep where the Fauntlings were allowed to wander, and there were bridges and boats that could carry them across the lake if need be.

So when Bilbo was introduced to the idea of swimming, he wasn't all that enthusiastic. The Dwarves were all capable of swimming, rather well actually. 

Bilbo admired their willingness to dive straight into the depths of the lake just outside of Erebor. It was a small lake, with water slightly warmer than air temperature due to a connecting river that probably ran over a hot spring further north. 

"You cannot swim?"

Bilbo flushed, feeling somewhat confronted as he tries to huff and look indignant. "Hobbits have no need for such a skill." He says defensively.

Kili frowns, looking a lot like he wanted to toss Bilbo into the lake to see for himself.

"Kili! Leave Mr Baggins be." Thorin says, putting a stern hand on his nephew's shoulder.

"He can't swim!" Kili says, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Thorin eyes Bilbo, looking somewhat shocked, before shuffling his nephew away. "Is that true, Mr Baggins?"

"Just Bilbo is fine." Bilbo insists, flushing again. "And yes, I do not know how to swim. I don't see how it's that much of a problem, truthfully..."

"I can teach you." Thorin offers. "If you wish."

 

"I hardly think this is necessary." Bilbo says, staring at the water as though it would suddenly bite him. "Really, this is too troublesome-"

"It's not." Thorin says, clearly amused at Bilbo's frantic behaviour. "Swimming is a good bonding exercise. It's relaxing, and soothes muscles. It's something you should learn."

Bilbo huffed. _It would be a lot easier if you were currently wearing a shirt!_ It was like Thorin was _intentionally_ taunting him. It didn't help that Thorin insisted he be shirtless as well.

It wasn't as though Bilbo was body-conscious, he just wasn't as... toned as Thorin. Or as muscled. Really, their bodies were nothing alike at all, and maybe he was a little body-conscious-

But that wasn't the point. The water didn't look inviting, even though Thorin was already waist-deep. 

Thorin waded closer, and reached for Bilbo's hand. "Come on, now. It's just water."

It wasn't _just_ water, but Bilbo didn't have a word of disagreement in his mind as soon as Thorin gripped his hand. It was just them in this part of the lake - it was a small alcove, hidden from view, with water that was slightly warmer and slightly clearer. 

"Have you ever swum before?" Thorin asks, peering down at him.

Bilbo shakes his head, shivering as the water crept up over his shins towards his knees. "Not properly." He says. "Not since I was a child."

"That's fine." Thorin says.

He led Bilbo further and further, until the water was at his waist and Bilbo was shivering a little. Thorin told him the basics of swimming, and showed him how to float, before gesturing for Bilbo to do so.

He probably wouldn't have followed Thorin's instructions if Thorin's hands weren't cradling his back as a safety guard. 

The next time Thorin took him for a lesson, he pulled Bilbo out into the deeper end.

He didn't complain when Bilbo's fingernails dug into his biceps just a little too hard, and only spoke very calmly as he instructed Bilbo on how to swim and assured him that no, he wouldn't drop him, and that no, he wouldn't let him drown.

It was strange, but eventually Bilbo came to enjoy the lessons. He felt like he'd developed a sort of bond with Thorin, and looked forward to their time together, even if he did have to confront the deep end of the lake.

"You're doing really well." Thorin encourages, hands planted firmly on Bilbo's waist as they drift across the water. "You're a fast leaner."

Bilbo grins. "Thanks." He says, patting Thorin's shoulder where his hands were braced. "It's not as challenging as I thought it might have been."

Thorin chuckles. "Now you have no excuse not to come swimming with us."

Bilbo flushes. "It's embarrassing."

Thorin blinks at him. "Embarrassing?"

"I suppose I could wear a shirt."

"You know no one will judge you." Thorin says, eyebrows furrowed.

Bilbo nodded. "I know, but it's still embarrassing." The Dwarves had all different kinds of body types, and he felt no _shame_ at his own, but it was still strange. Hobbits didn't usually bare so much skin around one another, not like the Dwarves did.

"You're _bashful."_ Thorin suddenly grins.

Bilbo turned bright red. "Thorin!" He spluttered. "Don't be mean!"

"But not around me." Thorin continues, as though Bilbo hadn't spoke, even as his hands squeeze at Bilbo's waist teasingly. "I am honoured, Mr Baggins."

Bilbo huffs, fixing his eyes to the side. "You're terrible."

Thorin only grins wider, and leans his head down to nudge along Bilbo's cheek with his nose. "It's okay," He says, "I quite like the idea of being the only one to see this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by SunlightQueen~


	8. Take The Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Probably couldn't, anyway." Bilbo says, releasing Thorin's hand as he lifts his feet back up onto the dash. "You'd-"
> 
> "I'd?"
> 
> "Who knows." Bilbo shrugs, closing his eyes. "I'd probably let you do it, too."

Windows down and engine roaring, the old coupe roamed across the wide road bracketed by mountainous orange sand dunes with little difficulty. 

With his feet propped up on the dash, Bilbo glanced over at his lover. "Know where we're going yet?"

Thorin glances at him, eyes pensive and blue, before turning back to face the endless stretch of road ahead of them. "Not yet." He answers.

Bilbo hums, stretching out his legs leisurely. "Think they'll follow?" He asks.

Thorin tilts a shoulder up in a shrug. His fingers flex on the worn steering wheel, his foot pressing at the accelerator insistently. "Possibly."

Bilbo leans back against the seat. It was hot, so the seat was vaguely damp with sweat, but he hardly felt it. Absently, he wiped at a dirt smudge on his leg, the skin exposed by the shorts he wore. "I suppose we'll find out when we get there, huh?"

Thorin nods. "How much water do we have?"

Bilbo glances into the back seat, where they'd stuffed as much as they could onto the small seat and floor. "'Bout twenty-five litres." He says, turning back. "Enough for ages, as long as we don't use it to bathe."

"No need out here." Thorin says.

Bilbo grins in agreement. "No one to see us, anyway."

Thorin's returning smile is somewhat satisfying. He didn't often smile - he wasn't a very happy person, but then again, neither was Bilbo. Happiness didn't exist, after all. Was just a myth. Something to trick people into believing.

"Are there any towns around here?" Bilbo asks. "We haven't come across one in a while."

"Check the map." Thorin answers.

Bilbo huffs at him, but leans down to dig around for the map amongst the things he kept under the dash. Eventually he comes across it, and with a triumphant sound, he leans back to flip it open.

The paper was worn, the colour faded, but still legible. Bilbo traces his finger along the roads he recognised, following their track until he found the point they were probably at.

"No towns for a few days." He sighs, defeated. "But I suppose that's good, huh? Even less people!"

Thorin chuckles, his fingers drumming along the wheel. "Suppose so."

"Hey, when do I get to drive?" Bilbo asks, pulling his feet off the dash to learn across the console towards Thorin.

"I drive."

Bilbo pouts, leaning back into his seat. "No fair."

"I drive." Thorin repeats, eyes glancing across at him. "You sit and look pretty."

Bilbo laughs, placated. "Flatterer." He accuses.

"We'll stop the car tonight." Thorin says.

"Sleep under the stars?"

"If it is what you wish."

Bilbo grins. "You sure you wanna stop? They're probably coming after us. You're really important, after all."

Thorin blindly reaches across the console to grab at his hand. "Shut up, Bilbo."

Bilbo stays quiet after that, but Thorin's grip was gentle. For a moment, the warmth of the air and the heat of the sun didn't seem so jovial anymore. The desert appeared more barren and empty than it had when it had been full of secrets and discoveries to be made. 

For a moment, the sadness that permeated their souls and caused their organs to decay was the only thing that was between them. Nothing else. 

They couldn't even look at each other.

"They probably think I kidnapped you." Bilbo states. His voice sounded unexpectedly loud to his own ears, but it was intentional. He didn't want to ever hear his own thoughts again. 

"Probably."

"I could go to jail."

"Not if they don't catch us."

Bilbo grinned, ignoring the fact that it was forced and probably full of teeth. 

"It's too late to turn back." Thorin says. "You're not leaving now."

"Probably couldn't, anyway." Bilbo says, releasing Thorin's hand as he lifts his feet back up onto the dash. "You'd-"

"I'd?"

"Who knows." Bilbo shrugs, closing his eyes. "I'd probably let you do it, too."

"How many blankets did we pack?"

Bilbo leans around the seat once more. "I can see seven." He says. "Including that knitted one with the bees on it. Is that enough? It gets so cold, especially outside of the car."

"It's enough." Thorin answers.

Bilbo twists around the right way, and settles against the seat. "Think they'll find us?" He asks, subdued.

"Maybe." Thorin says, before reaching forwards to twist a strange knob on the dashboard console and wrench back a gearstick that Bilbo was pretty sure wasn't meant to be there - Thorin fiddled with cars a lot, added bits and pieces at his own will, probably a little illegally. 

Bilbo watched as Thorin lifted up a hand to wrench open the wide sunroof. 

"Up you go." Thorin says, returning his hands to the steering wheel as the coupe takes an unexpected jolt forwards. 

"Really?" Bilbo asks, eyebrows going up. Thorin hated it when he got his feet on the seats.

"Go." Thorin says, taking a moment to reach across and drag his knuckles down Bilbo's face. "Go."

Bilbo leans into his touch, before jumping upwards to lean out of the sunroof. The wind felt good on his face, like an oasis of cool touches that brushed away all the dust on his bones and the oil clumping together his thoughts.

A laugh bubbled out of his throat. He banged on the roof of the car, drawing Thorin's attention. "Faster!" He shouted. "Faster! Faster!"

The window wipers slid across the windshield in acknowledgment once, and then the car was lurching forwards, chewing up the sandy dust beneath the wheels into a torrent of clouds that followed into their wake. 

Bilbo screeched in joy, leaning forwards into the wind. 

Running from their past lives was the most freeing thing he'd ever done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this with the idea of "discovery" in mind - do you think it reflects a sense of discovery? I'm not sure if it gets the point across or not~ ^^"


	9. Tucked In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is pregnant and uncomfortable.

Bilbo groaned as he rolled around on the large, spacious bed he shared with Thorin. He stuffed his face against Thorin's pillow, revelling in the comforting scent of his Dwarven lover.

A knock on the door interrupts him in his discomfort. He peers through the blankets at the door, eyes narrowed.

"Bilbo, love? It's already past second-breakfast. Bombur is preparing lunch." Thorin says through the door.

Bilbo relaxes against the covers, stretching luxuriously. "Can you bring it to me?" He asks.

Thorin chuckles, and pushes open the doors to their room. Bilbo listens as he walks across the room, and huffs when the bed dips and he shifts from his position.

The Dwarf reaches for the covers, and pulls them away to expose Bilbo's face. "How are you feeling today? You're not usually in bed for this long."

Bilbo huffs again, puffing his cheeks out. "I'm tired." He complains. "I hardly slept. I can't find a comfortable position."

Thorin peers at him, humming in thought. "I'll change the pillows." He says, standing again. "Lift your head."

Bilbo complies, crossing his arms to rest his cheek on them as he watches Thorin change the pillows out for the other ones they kept in the cupboard. "What's Bombur cooking?"

Thorin slips the new pillows under Bilbo's head, and lifts a hand to stroke through his errant curls. "Chicken." He says. "I can bring you a plate with bread and cheese if you wish."

Bilbo smiles, leaning into Thorin's touch. "Thank you." 

"It's not a problem, ghivashel." Thorin says, twisting a loose curl around his fingers. He looks contemplative for a moment, before gently lowering himself to lie beside the Hobbit, propped up on his arm. "Are you feeling ill?"

Bilbo shakes his head, lowering a hand to his rounded stomach. "No, just uncomfortable."

Thorin lowers a hand to envelope Bilbo's, rubbing it across his skin tenderly. "I'm afraid I'm unsure how to help with that." He says quietly.

"It'll pass." Bilbo says, shifting his hips a little. "Eventually."

Thorin chuckles, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "It's strange to think there's a whole new life inside of you."

Bilbo snorts. "Well, you put it there." He says. "It should hardly be a surprise at this point, considering how large I've become."

"It's a look I quite enjoy." Thorin grins, trailing his fingers along the expanse of Bilbo's stomach. "Though I do not enjoy your welfare being disrupted."

"Comes with the duty, I'm afraid." Bilbo sighs. "If I were not prepared for discomfort and illness, there would be no child growing inside of me."

Thorin chuckles, and presses another lingering kiss to his forehead. "I'll go fetch you a plate of food." Thorin says. "Try to get some rest until I return, and make sure to call out if you start to feel unwell. There's a guard at the end of the corridor, they will hear."

Bilbo nods, and cuddles back into the bed as Thorin stands and tucks the quilts around him, taking care around his stomach in particular. "Come back soon." Bilbo whispers.

Thorin pats his head once more, cupping the back of it with a large palm. "I will, ghivashel."


	10. One Placated Hobbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin braids Bilbo's hair.

Bilbo sighs, tilting his head back further at Thorin's gentle insistence. "What are you doing exactly, love?" He asks around a stifled yawn.

Thorin expertly threads a strand of his hair into the braids he was carefully weaving. "Nothing that is not compliant with your tastes." He answers. "Just relax."

"If I relax any further you'll have a puddle of Hobbit on your floor." Bilbo answers, snorting. "I did not realise you would be so enthusiastic about this."

"Braiding is important." Thorin says. "It's very intimate - between family and lovers only. You wouldn't braid the hair of someone who was not close to you."

Bilbo hums. "It feels good."

Thorin chuckles. "That's very complimentary, you know." He states. "I'm honoured."

A faint smile touches Bilbo's face. "I could spend hours complimenting you, my dear, but I'm currently too indisposed to form proper complimentary words."

Thorin leans down to muffle his laughter in Bilbo's hair, dipping his hands to cup the underside of Bilbo's chin. "I'm done now."

"Help me up, then." Bilbo demands.

Thorin slips his hands under Bilbo's armpits, and hauls him up right into his lap. 

"Oh, hello there." Bilbo grins lazily, nose to nose with his Dwarven King. "Strange to see you up here."

Thorin snorts at him, and nuzzles their noses together. "What have I done to you?"

Bilbo slumps in his grip, nudging his head under Thorin's chin. "You have one placated Hobbit on your hands, now." He states. "Do with him as you wish."

Thorin grins down at him, before standing with Bilbo still clutched in his arms. "Don't mind if I do." He says, looking down at Bilbo with this look in his eyes that Bilbo just knew spelt trouble. "If said Hobbit is willing, of course."

Bilbo matches his grin, lifting a hand to touch his forehead. "Oh, whatever shall the unwilling Hobbit do against the mighty Dwarven King?"

Thorin laughs. "Unwilling, he says." Thorin shakes his head, carrying Bilbo across to their large bed. "The Hobbit is definitely not unwilling."

"Well, I suppose you're right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's short, but they'll likely all be like this for a while~
> 
> One exam down, one major submission down, ah... I'm already exhausted •-•


	11. Out Of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was accidental.

The Dwarves didn't know Bilbo was a skinshifter.

Most Hobbits were, but kept it a secret from other races. There was no need for them to shift in the Shire, no war or battles to be fought. It was considered improper to shift when you were of age and could control the urges. 

Still, high emotion or shocks of adrenaline could provoke a shift. That's why adventuring was frowned upon. 

Of course, going on an adventure with a pack of Dwarves was very challenging for Bilbo, not just because he was weaker and smaller and less perceptive than the bunch of them. He was constantly on the verge of shifting, trying to hold back the beast crawling beneath his skin in favour of remaining normal and secretive.

He hadn't liked Thorin, at first. Thorin hadn't liked him, either.

He didn't know when he started caring for Thorin more as a member of his _pack_ then as nothing more than a Dwarf King without a crown.

He did, though. Care for Thorin. Didn't know why, or how, but the company of Dwarves all became pack, became more than the Hobbits of the Shire had ever or could ever be. He caught himself thinking about how he could contribute more by shifting, how he should reveal himself because trust was important and once it was broken it could never be fully repaired.

It wasn't until the incident after the Goblin Tunnels with the Pale Orc that Bilbo's control finally slipped out of his hands.

Thorin had been screaming in _pain,_ and the scent of his blood had flooded Bilbo's senses before he could fully grapple for his control. He couldn't hold back from that. 

He was clumsy on four feet, and less than half the size of a Warg, but that didn't stop him.

He snarled and growled and even barked as he tackled the Warg's rider, sinking his teeth into the Orc's arm and crunching down until the creature moved no more.

It was a blur after that. He could remember the sound of the Pale Orc-creature shouting, and how he's stood in front of pack-Thorin's body as though he himself were a shield - then the eagles came, swooping in and chasing away the Warg-wolves that threatened his pack. 

Then the bird had swept off with Thorin curled in it's claws, and Bilbo could think no more.

 

He couldn't shift back while the eagle clutched him in its claws. In the back of his mind, he was glad that they hadn't dropped him off the cliff like they did the Warg-wolves.

Eventually, his rational thoughts started trickling back in. The "pack" became the Dwarves, and he went from "wolf" to "Hobbit" again, back to _Bilbo._

It was very disorienting. 

He whimpered as the eagle gently lowered him down.

Thorin was unconscious, but Gandalf fixed him, Bilbo could smell it.

He growled defensively when the wizard tried to approach him. He knew that Gandalf was only trying to help, that he wouldn't hurt him, but those thoughts didn't make sense, everything in him was too messed up, either too "wolf" or too "Hobbit".

And then Thorin had scolded him, approaching him despite the defensive way Bilbo hunched up. Told him hurtful things, didn't care that Bilbo had his ears pressed back in submission. 

"I've never been so wrong in all my life." Thorin said, dropping to his knees to grip Bilbo tightly. He smelt good. Bilbo whined questioningly.

Gandalf explained his... _condition_ to the Dwarves, and to Bilbo's shock, they seemed _impressed._ Like they couldn't believe Bilbo cared about them enough that his body had shifted, knowing it wasn't something his mind had been conditioned to do.

Eventually, he'd shift back, and be appropriately embarrassed about his lack of control and the fact that he'd need to borrow someone's clothes.

For know, he was content to pad along beside Thorin, reassured by the large hand that rested comfortably against his head.


	12. No Excuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin doesn't realise Bilbo is ill, and accidentally brushes him off.
> 
> Dwalin is not pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin/Bilbo/Dwalin implied~

Bilbo knew that Dwarves and Hobbits were very different - that much was obvious, from everything about their appearance to their dietary preferences and the way in which they built their homes. They were just _different._

So it came as a bit of a shock when he found himself in a relationship with not just one Dwarf, but two.

And not just any Dwarves, either. The scariest and most intimidating ones he'd come across! 

Well, they weren't so scary, not anymore. They could be, but it was never directed at him. 

Bilbo had never felt pushed aside in the relationship he had with Thorin and Dwalin, and hardly ever felt excluded. If he were being honest, he was quite surprised at that - he had expected to be a bit of a "third wheel" for a while, considering how long Thorin and Dwalin had known one another and the deep way they trusted each other.

They weren't exactly soul mates... Bilbo didn't know what to call it. He was sure the Dwarves had a word for it, but it was one he wouldn't ever properly understand. All he knew was that Mahal had destined the two of them to be with him, and Bilbo liked to think that Yavanna would agree. 

Still, the needs of Dwarves and the needs of Hobbits were sometimes very different.

Bilbo never really explained to them how Hobbits _functioned._

For one, they were very needy creatures. Once a pairing had been made and properly consummated (which Bilbo was very assured had already happened) the bond was lifelong. It could never be broken - Hobbits only had one partner of whom they eventually became utterly devoted to.

That being said, Hobbits could become very clingy to that person, or people, in Bilbo's case. Only when incapacitated, of course, such as when they were sick or pregnant or anxious or insecure- 

And while Bilbo was neither anxious, pregnant or insecure, he was ill.

He had felt it beginning the evening before, and had hoped a long night's rest would cure him.

It hadn't, and when he'd woken to an empty bed, he couldn't help but feel a little panicked. 

While he cared for both his lovers equally, he preferred going to Thorin for comfort. Dwalin was better at offering him protection, or reassurance, but when he was upset or overwhelmed it was usually Thorin that soothed him. 

However, Thorin appeared rather... _preoccupied._

Granted, his day was rather full, but he'd never brushed Bilbo off, not like he did that day. He seemed too busy to even _look_ at Bilbo.

Which left the Hobbit red-cheeked and upset in a secluded corridor, clutching the wall to hold off the dizziness in his head. He'd never felt so rejected. 

Thankfully, it was Oin that stumbled across him first. His medical expertise had him instantly knowing that Bilbo was ill, and before he knew it, Bilbo was being shuffled along to the medical bay.

"Now don't you worry, lad." Oin said. "I'll have someone fetch Thorin right away."

"No." Bilbo croaked, gripping his wrist tightly. "Get Dwalin."

Oin watched him for a moment, surprised, before nodding. "Alright." He agreed, before disappearing. 

Bilbo reclined against the infirmary bed, pressing a hand to his forehead. It burned against his skin, and he winced. No wonder he had a headache.

Dwalin quickly arrived, and let out a concerned grunt as he swiftly came to Bilbo's bedside. "Are you alright?" He asked, gingerly picking up Bilbo's hand.

"I don't feel so good." Bilbo whispered. 

Oin took a moment to check over him, before telling Dwalin that he has some sort of common Dwarven ailment. "He's not Dwarven, so it might affect him a little more severely." Oin said. "His fever could have been controlled if treated earlier..."

"Why did you not go to Thorin sooner?" Dwalin questioned, frowning down at Bilbo.

"I did." Bilbo whimpered. "He said he was too busy. He looked really distracted-" 

"That's no excuse." Dwalin growled. "Wait here, I'm going to get that idiot." 

"Dwalin..." Bilbo whimpered, but the Dwarven warrior was already storming from the room, outraged. 

"Don't worry, lad." Oin said, patting his arm reassuringly. "It's Dwalin's place to chastise Thorin for what he's done. Even a King should make time for his consort."

Bilbo couldn't help but feel guilty at that. 

He waited in silence for his Dwarves to return as Oin pressed a damp cloth to his forehead and encouraged him to swallow some sort of medicine that tasted far too bitter. It strangely slowed his strangled heartbeat and began to soothe the aches in his head.

He hardly noticed Dwalin re-entering with Thorin in tow until they began to argue.

"Look what you've done!" Dwalin growled. "How could you ignore him? He's ill!"

"I didn't know!" Thorin snapped back defensively. "It's been so busy today-"

"That's no excuse!" Dwalin squared his shoulders, towering over Thorin in a way he didn't often resort to. "He's your _consort,_ and you know he goes to you for comfort. You turned him _away."_

Thorin baulked at that, and turned to Bilbo, who watched him with damp eyes. 

The Dwarven King came to his bedside, and gently took Bilbo into his arms. "I'm sorry, Bilbo." He whispered pitifully, nudging his forehead against Bilbo's once. "I should not have neglected you so."

Dwalin snorted in agreement, arms folded. 

Thorin huffed at him, but ignored the other Dwarf for the moment. "I'll take care of you, ghivashel." He promised. "I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course I do." Bilbo mumbled tiredly.

Dwalin sighed, and came around to scoop Bilbo out of Thorin's arms. "It's time for you to sleep, little one." He said gruffly. "Thorin and I will stay with you."

Bilbo smiled a little, resting his head on Dwalin's broad chest as he began to carry him back to their room.

He didn't know what it was that kept them all together, but he didn't mind it, whatever it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking advantage of the space in my exam timetable to write something a little longer, ahaha ^^"


	13. Heart à la Mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things just go straight over his head.

Bilbo worked for this huge company called Middle Earth. It was famous for successfully running multiple businesses under the one name - it was very successful at vertical integration, for example.

Bilbo worked in Middle Earth's publishing department, primarily on a popular magazine and corresponding blog called _The Shire._ It was a job he rather enjoyed, because he was quite good at keeping up with the fashions and preferences of the week, but it was quite stressful at times.

He got to work with the other departments of Middle Earth, too. _The Shire_ was often working on projects with _Mirkwood_ and _Rivendell,_ for example. The first was run by a man named Thranduil, who coordinated all internal fairs while managing the department that sold high-quality greeneries and facilitated the flow of agricultural products into the country. The latter was run by Elrond, who was much easier to work with. _Rivendell_ was similar to _Mirkwood_ in the sense that they were both agricultural departments - Elrond's department focused on water, however, and had relations with marine institutions across the country.

Over all, Middle Earth was really all over the place. Most people didn't know that Middle Earth was the spearhead behind all it's companies - most people could recognise names like _The Shire_ and _Mirkwood_ without ever having heard of Middle Earth. 

Bilbo thought that the most dominant of Middle Earth's departments, however, was _Erebor._

It was headed by a man called Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo wasn't entirely sure what the _Erebor_ did, but he knew it had something to do with mining, jewellery and finance. An odd combination, but it worked rather successfully.

He'd worked with Thorin before. There were often articles featured on his blog about the jewellery, because it was really quite stunning. Every piece was absolutely beautiful. 

"Bilbo, stop daydreaming!" Bofur called, leaning into Bilbo's office. "It's almost time to go!"

"Right, right, I'm getting there!" Bilbo huffs, turning his attention back to his computer. 

_The Shire_ was preparing a huge feature release that was taking up absolutely all of his time. He'd been running all over the place for weeks, collecting "behind the scene" photos and interviews from each of the departments. It was what the people liked most, he thought - all the stuff that went on behind closed doors. And considering the feature was about their own company, what better pictures than their own? 

Honestly, he enjoyed following Thorin around like a freelance journalist just out of university. He'd had to deal with Thranduil the week before, and the week before he was stuck with Bard, who was too busy to really do anything other than string him along to his appointments. 

Thorin was much more amusing. They got along well, even if the first few months of knowing one another were spent doing nothing more than tolerating the other's presence. They were closer, now. Bilbo thought that Thorin was rather handsome.

He sighed as he rested his fingers on the keyboard. He probably wouldn't be able to make it to the day's picnic.

Every six months or so, the Middle Earth bosses gave the entire company a picnic lunch at their local lakes and parks. Work only continued until noon, and then the workers were free to attend the venues at their leisure.

"Bilbo, are you done yet?" Bofur asks, as he wanders back through the office.

Bilbo shakes his head. "No, sorry. I doubt I'll be able to come today." He sighs, tapping his fingers against the surface of the desk.

"But you've been working so hard!" Bofur says. "It's okay to take a break."

Bilbo smiles apologetically. "Sorry."

"But Thorin's waiting for you!" Bofur exclaims. "He has a thing for you."

Bilbo huffs cheeks reddening. "Don't be silly." He says. "Off you go, leave me in peace."

Bofur grins. "The whole building knows it, Bilbo." He says, before taking his leave.

Bilbo sighs, leaning back in his chair. He didn't know what Bofur meant - he was pretty bad at keeping his admiration of Thorin a secret, but he was fairly certain Thorin didn't have time for someone like him. He probably had a gorgeous girlfriend waiting in his expensive house for him, anyway.

 

Bilbo's stomach was grumbling rather loudly as he typed furiously at his computer. He had several screens up, trying to get as much done as possible - he didn't even realise it was past lunch time.

A knock at his door startles him. "Y-yes?"

"Mr Baggins?"

Bilbo sits up straighter, feeling the beginnings of a blush tint his cheeks. "Ah, come in."

Thorin steps into his office, glancing around curiously. There were all sorts of edits and photographs on the walls, combined with potted plants and succulents hanging from the ceiling in geometric structures. "I've never been in here before." Thorin remarks pleasantly.

Bilbo flushes. "Ah, well, what can I say? It keeps the room from stagnating." He shrugs nervously.

"Bofur told me you had no plans to attend today's picnic." Thorin says, wandering over to sit on the corner of Bilbo's neat desk.

"I've been rather busy." Bilbo sighs woefully. 

"With that feature article?"

"Yes. Everyone has been quite helpful, I've got a lot of information to sort through."

"And how's that going?"

"Well." Bilbo tentatively admits. "But I've still got heaps to go."

Thorin hums thoughtfully. "So you won't attend today's picnic?"

"I would like to, but..."

"Not even if I personally invited you?"

Bilbo startled, looking up at Thorin with wide eyes.

Thorin smiled down at him, not unkindly. "Won't you come with me, Mr Baggins?"

"But..."

"You may be very up-to-date with the fashions of today, Mr Baggins," Thorin says, chuckling, "But matters of the heart seem to go straight over your head!"

Bilbo flushes, but takes the hand Thorin outstretches. "I didn't realise..."

"Everyone else did." Thorin says, amused. "So you will come with me?"

Bilbo laughs. "Was there any doubt?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _à la mode:_ in fashion; up to date.


	14. Peacefully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin relaxes with his sleeping husband.

Thorin sighs as he observes the stars above him. It was a clear night, good for spending time outside the homely halls of Erebor.

Bilbo enjoyed spending time outdoors, Thorin knew that, and as such times like these were rather enjoyable. Thorin had gifted Bilbo with a garden space to make all his own, and it was positively thriving under Bilbo's tender care. He was soon placed in charge of the agricultural division, too, because he had such a talent with greenery.

Bilbo mumbles something in his sleep, burrowing further into Thorin's cloak insistently.

Thorin smooths a large hand down his Hobbit's back, following the curve of his spine to rest warming in the dip above his waistband. Bilbo was peacefully asleep, sprawled out on Thorin's chest as they laid in the wide hammock Bilbo had strung between two sturdy trees beside his garden. It was rather comfortable to be in.

With one leg off the hammock, Thorin gently rocked his foot against the ground, prompting the hammock to swing gently. The motion of the hammock had rocked Bilbo into a drowsy sleep some time ago, and Thorin hoped to keep him there. Bilbo was quite handsome while he slept, even with his cheek pressed against Thorin's chest and his fingers clenched tightly in Thorin's coat.

Thorin often wondered how his life would have been if he had not convinced the Hobbit to stay in Erebor.

He tried to think of other things, any time thoughts like that arose in his mind. There were much happier things to think of, now, like fond memories of his courtship and the way Bilbo had smiled, flustered, at their wedding and the small shape of Bilbo's fingers as they rested on his, hand in hand.

There were countless beautiful things for Thorin to think about, now, and almost all of them had Bilbo in it.


	15. To Hold A Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company and the way in which they hold baby Frodo.

Even though Frodo was hardly heavy, Bilbo's arms still tired after carrying him for extended periods of time.

The little Fauntling was only just shy of seven months old, and by Hobbit standards he was healthy and sturdy enough to be taken outside of the home for a little while, so long as he was properly rugged up. 

The Dwarves, however, had much different views. Dwarven children aged slower, and were much more fragile during their first few years than Hobbit children. They didn't often leave the home until several years old.

Bilbo persisted, however, and was often seen carrying Frodo around. He knew the limitations of Hobbit children, and even if Frodo had only been with him for five months, Bilbo thought that their bond was one deep enough to have firmly marked his heart.

Still, his arms often tired.

It was comical to watch the Dwarves fawn over Frodo, but as soon as they were confronted with holding him, they paled and quietened like babes.

Eventually Bilbo was able to convince Fili, of all people, to hold his cousin.

"Just sit comfortably." Bilbo instructed, standing in front of the Dwarven Prince, who sat seated nervously on the armchair in the library, where most of them gathered to visit Frodo. "Are you comfortable?" 

Fili nodded, swallowing. 

"Cross your arms." Bilbo says. "Your dominant hand will support his head."

Fili nods again, and after Bilbo was happy with the positioning of his arms, he gently slipped the slumbering child into Fili's grip.

"There you go." He smiles, tucking the blanket around Frodo's chubby belly. "You're doing really well."

Fili looks up at him, eyes wide with awe. "Really?" He asks, staring down at Frodo once more. "He's so little..."

"He is a Hobbit." Bilbo says. "He's quite a healthy size. I was much smaller at his age."

"You mean Hobbit babes can get even smaller?" Kili asks, gaping.

"It's not uncommon." Bilbo says.

After Fili got adjusted to holding Frodo, the rest soon followed. Gloin and Oin were both accustomed to holding a child, and Balin was a natural. Frodo screeched with joy at the shape of Nori's hair, scaring him off, and Dori preferred to just stroke Frodo's cheek, though he was rather bashful about doing so - Bilbo thought he was nervous.

Ori shook like a leaf the moment Frodo was passed into his arms, and was absolutely awed at the way Frodo cooed and stared at him. He began regularly knitting Frodo a whole assortment of new things, of which Frodo greatly favoured a little knitted goat.

Bombur held him for a moment, but was more interested in making little sweet purees for Frodo to eat. Bifur muttered things in Khuzdul that Bilbo didn't understand, but Bofur assured him that Bifur was just wishing the little thing well as Frodo was passed back to Bilbo.

Bofur was probably the least concerned about holding Frodo. He cradled Frodo in one arm, shaking a little wooden toy above his head as he energetically called Frodo names like "miniature Hobbit" and "wriggling worm". Bilbo just snorted in amusement.

Kili was just as nervous as Fili was, and Bilbo almost had a heart attack as Kili fumbled with the babe. Surprisingly, however, Kili's grip was quite sturdy, and the little shake just made Frodo wriggle in excitement, grinning. 

Considering the fact that Frodo's crib was in Bilbo's bedroom, Thorin had become accustomed to holding the child already, and was probably the person who cradled him the most, aside from Bilbo. 

Bilbo sometimes thought back to the first moment Frodo had arrived at Erebor, how Thorin had been so tender and careful and tentative around him. Bilbo was worried that a child would strain their relationship, especially an unplanned one - but just the opposite happened. 

Thorin called Frodo "his Hobbit son" more often than not, for goodness's sake.

Overall, the whole of Erebor had taken well to his presence. Children were treasured by the Dwarves, because bringing them into this world was as difficult as teaching Bilbo how to mine precious gems - having a child raised the morale, he thought.

Still, seeing _Dwalin_ holding Frodo-

Bilbo fell into a fit of giggles every time.

It was well known knowledge that Dwalin was rough. Covered in scars and tattoos and other various sharp objects, he carried an air of gruffness and crudeness that no other Dwarf could possibly rival.

So to see him standing, cradling a child that could very well fit into both of his hands from the top of his head to the tips of his little hairy feet, was extremely comical. It didn't help that Dwalin seemed _afraid_ of holding the child.

As one of Thorin's closest friends, however, Thorin had insisted Dwalin become used to holding Frodo. 

Memories like those brought a smile to Bilbo's face every time.


	16. The Significance Of A Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ring can be very liberating.

"I really don't want to take it off." Bilbo sighs, absently twisting his engagement ring around his finger.

Thorin smiles at him, though its a tired smile. "I don't either." He says.

Bilbo pouts furiously, but after a moment he obediently slips the ring off his finger and into his pocket, watching sadly as Thorin does the same.

They'd been in a relationship for years. Thorin had been the one to propose - surprisingly, he was rather romantic! - but Bilbo had insisted on Thorin wearing a ring too. Thorin, of course, was more than happy to oblige, and they'd gone and picked it out together (Bilbo was very much happy with the one Thorin had picked out for him). 

The problem was, their families didn't know. Neither of them were entirely sure that their relatives would agree to a same-sex coupling, anyway. Bilbo knew his parents would of, because they often told him to love who he wanted to love, but they'd died some time ago, and his remaining family had never been fond of his mother.

Thorin's father was rather strict, and while Thorin's siblings supported them it was unlikely his father would.

Unfortunately for them, their families were rather well acquainted. Dinners and dinner parties were a rather regular occurrence, it was how the two had originally met. 

Attending the dinners, however, was difficult.

They had to enter at different times, one after the other, and always had to hide their rings. Even though Dis always offered comforting smiles, and Frerin was very talented at steering the conversation away from significant partners (always, of which, were called "she", or the more favoured "do you have a lucky girl on your arm, yet?").

Still, that night Thorin seemed to be particularly interesting to the various adults attending the party, many of which worked with the Baggins and Durin families.

He was always polite, and constantly deferred to other questions, but his supposed bachelor lifestyle was a constant topic.

It made Bilbo unexpectedly sad. He had to sit at the other end of the table, next to his least favourite person - Lobelia Sackville-Baggins - but he could still see Thorin's expression, and the easy smile he forced onto his face.

He stared at his plate, moving around his food in a vague attempt to hide the fact that he wasn't eating it. He was getting increasingly upset with every question - with every "you're so handsome, any girl would want you!" and "I have someone in mind who would love to meet you, if you like".

"Oh, that's right!" A woman exclaimed. "I'll give your number to my niece, she's just your type."

"That's alright, you needn't-" Thorin starts.

"Don't worry about it, I showed her a picture of you and she's quite enamoured!"

Bilbo bit his lip, hard enough to puncture the skin. The sour taste of blood stang his tongue. He pushed away from his plate, standing, ignoring Lobelia's critical hiss. "Bathroom." He mumbled at her, before escaping.

He hid on the backyard patio, hand pressed to his mouth. He didn't know what it was about this night, but it was just too much. Why couldn't they just tell everyone? Why couldn't people accept them for who they were? It would never make sense to him.

He jumped at the sound of the patio door sliding open.

"Bilbo?" Thorin asks, brow furrowed in worry.

Bilbo lowered his hand, bottom lip trembling.

Thorin rushed to embrace him, crooning soft reassurances into his hair. "Bilbo, please don't cry." He whispers. "I cannot bear to see you so."

Bilbo sniffled back his tears, resting a hand on Thorin's chest as he used the other to rub at his eyes. "I hate hearing it." He whimpers. "I hate them thinking they can just... that you'll..."

Thorin sighs shakily, holding Bilbo closer. "I understand." He says. "But Bilbo, I could never be with anyone else, not after feeling about you like I do. I just... I don't want to say anything promising, because I can't be certain about the future, but the way I feel about you now is something I never want to let go of. You know that, don't you? Know that I love you more than anything else?"

Bilbo breathes in deeply, then out, before nodding. "I know." He says. "I know, but it's just... hard."

Thorin smiles a little, and nuzzles his forehead. "Next time, I'll tell them I'm bringing my fiancée." He says. "And we'll exit my car together, and I'll hold your hand, and we won't listen to anything they say that isn't nice."

Bilbo laughs, and Thorin seems appeased. "Okay." He breathes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "We'll do that, next time."


	17. To This Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't tell me what to feel.

To this day, he still feels it. 

He grew up as that one kid who everyone picks on, not because they hate him or they hit him or they thought he was particularly bad, but because it was _easy_. He was that one.

He grew up believing no one would fall in love with him. Still doesn't believe it, even if he's told it like a broken record stuck on three words that are strung together so many times they've long since lost their novelty.

If he can't love himself, then he can't love anyone else.

And he can't - love himself, that is. He can't do it. He hates his hair, and he hates his skin, and he hates his body shape. He hates that he can't keep up with fashion, and that he can't style himself like he wants, and he hates the way his face looks. He hates his face. Hates it. He hates his passions, because he's not good at them, feels like he's not good at what he loves anymore.

And if he's not good at what he loves, then what is he good at? 

He hates words like "get over it" and "it's not so bad" and "it'll pass". He hates hearing "time will heal it" because that's _not_ what time does, time rots and it snowballs and it cements. Time is permanent. Time is persistent. 

He hates being told he can be fixed, that the person he cares deeply for will help, because they can't. They can't. 

"Bilbo, please..." Thorin pleads.

"Don't!" Bilbo cries. 

_Don't tell me that you love me, because I don't understand. Don't tell me that it'll heal, because it never has, I know, I lived with it for so long. Don't tell me that I'm not lonely, don't tell me that I'm good at something, don't tell me it could be worse-_

This self-obsession, it's a waste of living. He grew up believing no one would fall in love with him, that he'd be lonely forever, and he can't help it.

"Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone." He whispers. 

Because everything has been a battleground, and he died long ago.


	18. Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one knew, but that was okay.

It wasn't that he was _hiding-_

It was just, his favourite place was rather well hidden. A complete coincidence. Probably.

Still, Bilbo slunk across the gardens to find the small wooden bench he'd discovered seated beneath an overgrown hedge some time ago. The leaves all but crawled across his shoulders, but he wasn't particularly bothered by it. Plants reminded him of the Shire, and he'd take what he could get at the Lonely Mountain. 

He wasn't the only person who knew about this place.

Thorin arrived not a few moments later, brushing through the shrubbery and looking as though it had personally offended him. "I do not see your fascination with these things." He says.

Bilbo smiles easily as Thorin takes a seat beside him, still handsomely dressed in his royal armour and crown. "I find it relaxing." He states.

Thorin snorts, and leans across to plant a firm kiss across Bilbo's lips. "If you say so."

Bilbo smiles, wider, feeling a sort of giddiness build up in his stomach.

Thorin always did that to him - made him _excited._ There was something irrevocably handsome to him, in the way he carried himself and the way he spoke. Bilbo liked being around him, and Thorin seemingly enjoyed the same.

It was no wonder their relationship had progressed into something less platonic. 

Even if it were to remain a secret tryst for some time longer (as it had been for quite a while, by now) Bilbo did not mind. He understood the need to wait for the right moment to announce it - Thorin was a king, after all, the King of the greatest mountain in all of Middle Earth.

Still, it was sort of hopelessly romantic, even when they did nothing more than sit behind an overgrown bush on an old bench and tell tales of their days.

It was relaxing.


	19. Raven Finesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo hadn't noticed the raven following him in his travels until it fell out of a tree.

Bilbo hadn't noticed the raven following him in his travels until it fell out of a tree.

This raven wasn't like other ravens, oh no, it was wildly intelligent and quite large. Bilbo doubted he'd be able to support it with a single arm. Aside from that, it was also extraordinarily _clumsy._

It did fall out of a tree for no apparent reason, after all.

Still, Bilbo was intrigued. He'd been travelling for quite some time, and although he rather enjoyed the scenery and the experience, it could be somewhat dull. The cheeky raven was enough to keep him entertained for some time, and he was somewhat pleased that it was following him.

After a few days, though, he felt as though it were leading him somewhere. He didn't have a destination in mind, so it wasn't as though he felt bad about deviating off the path, but he was aware that he was entering an area controlled by Dwarves.

He'd never met a Dwarf.

It was morning when the raven next came to see him. It cawed, and hopped along the ground, fluffing out its voluptuous wings. 

Bilbo smiled, and placed down the map he'd been editing to offer the raven a piece of bread. He'd been working on the map for as long as he'd travelled, adding paths and mountains and little places he'd like to visit again.

The raven gave him a small chirp, before darting forwards to snatch up his map.

"Hey!" Bilbo protested, reaching for it. "That's mine..."

He let out an indignant cry as the raven suddenly took off, flapping its wings fervently. 

Bilbo jumped to his feet, heart racing. "Hey!" He shouted, running after the bird. "Give that back!"

 

Thorin couldn't _believe_ his stupid bird had flown off again. It was an intelligent bird, but it was young and jovial, not yet matured.

At least it always returned to him. It's more than his brother, Frerin, could say about his, ah... _bird thing._

Still, it got a little tiresome, waiting atop the training ridge where he had a view of the forests surrounding Erebor. At least the breeze was nice, and there were no dignitaries or guards coming after him.

He enjoyed spending his leisure time outside of the royal courts.

Even if he had to train his stupid bird.

It was some time later when the large thing reappeared, soaring through the air to land heavily on the arm he outstretched.

"What have you got this time?" He sighed, taking the parchment out of his raven's beak. It often brought back things it probably shouldn't have picked up, but this seemed... different.

He curiously pulled it open, and was surprised to find that it was a map.

Thorin hummed contemplatively, folding the map shut to peer at his bird. "And where did you steal this from?" He accused. The bird cawed, and ruffled its feathers, seemingly content with itself.

Thorin sighed, and stood, ignoring how the raven made indignant noises as he began the trek down the mountain. There had to be a traveller his bird had pillaged, and therefore he had someone to make an apology to.

 

Bilbo stared up at the mountain, upset. There went his map.

He was about to leave, to make his way back to the path, when a voice called out to him.

"Does this belong to you?"

Bilbo startled, whipping around to face the Dwarf dropping to the ground from a small ledge just above him.

The Dwarf was _handsome._ He was dressed in casual clothing, with leather braces on his arms to protect from the raven's claws, but he carried an air about him that was somewhat imposing. His hair was dark and thick, pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. There were braids that Bilbo could make out, just behind his ears.

Blue eyes from a youthful face stared at him quizzically.

Bilbo flushed horrendously, clutching the bottom of his waistcoat, nervous. "Ah, it is..." He said.

The Dwarf smiled - and it really was quite a dazzling smile - and held out his map. "I must apologise for my bird." He said, shrugging a shoulder to dislodge the raven vindictively, "He's not fully matured yet..."

"It's alright." Bilbo forced a smile, shakily taking the map back. "He's kept me company for the past few days."

The Dwarf's eyes widened a little. "So that's where he's been going off to!" He laughed. "How did you come across him? He didn't land on you, did he?"

Bilbo laughed quietly. "No, he fell from a tree!"

The Dwarf snorted. "Of course he did." He shook his head with a sigh. "My name's Thorin. It's nice to meet you."

Bilbo quickly moved to shake the hand outstretched to him. "Bilbo..." He answered, distracted at the sheer size difference between their hands. Thorin's fingers were warm, his skin lightly calloused, and they could possibly completely envelope his own. 

"I've never met a Halfling before." Thorin said.

"I've never met a Dwarf." Bilbo giggled, grinning. "Nor have I met a raven so clumsy."

Thorin flushed, but beamed down at him. "Oh, don't even get me started!"


	20. Over Spilt Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin hates the morning shift.

Thorin hated working the early morning shifts. He was no good at baking, and he didn't have hands small or gentle enough to decorate cookies and cupcakes in a way that wouldn't frighten children into crying.

And mornings were so... he cringed just thinking about it.

So it would suffice to say that he was never really all that welcoming when a customer came in at the crack of dawn for some reason only god would ever know. It wasn't like he chased them away, but he just couldn't muster the casual smile he usually did, and nor could he be bothered to create small talk. 

It wasn't like the customer was up for it, either. They were usually sleep deprived and walked around like zombies.

Still, he felt tired and a little irritable during his early morning shifts. That morning there hadn't been many orders - a business man came in for a shot of caffeine, then a mother with a squalling baby, then a college student with curly hair that looked to be around his age. 

Thorin was handing the college student his drink when the sleep-deprived man suddenly started, dropping the cup to the floor where it promptly made the biggest puddle possible.

"Are you kidding me-" Thorin started, frustrated.

He quickly clamped down on the tirade building up in his head when he saw the college student was _crying._

And he was _cute._

"I-I'm sorry." He sniffles, rubbing at his eyes as big tears pool in them. "I didn't mean it."

"It's okay." Thorin quickly says. "I can make another."

The guy sniffles again. "Sorry, I'll pay-"

"It's alright." Thorin waves him off. "It's not a problem."

"Really...?" Big eyes stare at him, watery and clear and like nothing Thorin has ever seen before.

 _He's really handsome... dammit._ "It's fine." Thorin says, smiling. It wasn't - it'd come out of his pay, but it wasn't that bad. He usually bought a coffee anyway, so he just wouldn't today. "You didn't get burned, did you?"

The cute stranger shakes his head. "I'm Bilbo." He says.

"Thorin." He replies as he begins to made a new coffee. 

He somehow manages to make small chitchat with Bilbo as he mops up the mess and makes him a new drink - Bilbo's been up all night working on his major, it seemed, but being sleepy made him clumsy. 

_God, he's cute._

"Thank you so much for this." Bilbo says, staring up at Thorin shyly as he takes the cup. "I'm really sorry for making your job harder."

"It's alright." Thorin says, smiling easy this time. "It's not like I'm particularly busy at this time in the morning." He sweeps a hand around the empty café to emphasise his point.

Bilbo giggles. "Okay." He says, placated, cheeks flushed. "See you later?"

Thorin grins. "Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DorctorBDamned
> 
> I'm finally done... with trial exams... *wheezes* I have my last major submission on Monday, and then a few weeks until HSC, so I'll have more time to write, finally~ ^^"


	21. To My Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragon isn't a dragon.
> 
> The rabbits are not rabbits.
> 
> The elf is not an elf.
> 
> The traveller is not a traveller.
> 
> The cold, however, will always be cold.

_"And the dragon roared ice, making everything cold."_

_"Ice? Not fire?"_

_"Being cold hurts more."_

 

"You want me to talk to him?" Thorin asks, frowning as his mother gently takes his smaller hand in her own. "Why?"

"The boy doesn't trust adults. He may have been conditioned not to tell the truth... I know he'd talk to you." She says, eyes imploring. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Thorin turns his head to stare through the window into the classroom. The school was empty and cold, with sterile lights and slowly swerving fans that ticked near the ceiling. The desks were lined up in a square around the edge of the room, boxing in the rows in the centre of the floor. Plastic tape held down names across the corners. 

There was a boy in the room. He was probably only half Thorin's age. His cheeks were flushed, one coloured blue as though it had been touched by frost. One of his black shoes was unbuckled as he swung them both back and forth slowly and methodically. The collar of his white shirt was sort of lopsided, like it hadn't been put on right or it was the wrong size.

"What happened to him?" Thorin whispers, overcome by a sudden sense of loneliness.

His mother shakes her head. A strand of hair comes loose from the professional bun she kept it in. She absently pushed it back - a nervous tick, Thorin had learnt. "We don't know." She finally says. "But..."

Thorin shook his head, silencing her. He didn't understand her job, not fully, but when she came home with bloodshot eyes and held him and his siblings as tightly as she could, he never complained. 

"So you won't do it...?"

"I will." Thorin answers. He brushes past her, breathing in and out once. His breaths were loud. 

Slowly, he pushed the classroom door open. 

 

The boy standing in front of him was probably twice his age, Bilbo guessed. 

"My name is Thorin." The boy says. He looks like he wants to outstretch a hand. He doesn't.

"Bilbo." Bilbo answers. He stops swinging his feet.

Thorin bends onto a knee, takes his foot in hand. He carefully buckles up the loose strap. "Mother says you write stories." Thorin says, glancing up. His eyes were blue. "Can you read me one?"

"I don't write much." Bilbo says. "But I make stories. I can tell you one."

Thorin stands, and sits on the table beside him. Bilbo thinks that Primula won't like having a boy's germs on her desk. "Tell me a story."

Bilbo breathes in and out once. His breaths were loud. 

Slowly, he starts to tell a story.

 

_There was a dragon, once. He was a cruel dragon - he didn't hurt people to eat or steal from them, no, he hurt them just because he could._

_No one knew when the dragon would come, but the dragon was always there to hurt. Many people wandered into his territory, but the dragon didn't always hurt them. He chose the best time, the time when it would hurt the most. No one knew how to stop him, because he was a dragon, and dragons are really strong._

_One time, the dragon attacked a lot of people at once. People didn't see him, because he was a smart dragon. He attacked quickly and swiftly, and caused a lot of damage. A lot of people died._

 

"Don't cry, and don't be sad." Bilbo says to Thorin, reciting it as though they were important things to remember. "That's what you say to someone who's sad."

"Why do you say that?" Thorin asks, looking down at the child with an increasing sense of worry.

"Because they're sad." Bilbo says, as though it were the most simple thing in the world. "That's why."

 

_The dragon wasn't a normal dragon. It didn't breathe fire, because burning something wasn't as painful as freezing it. Instead, it breathed ice and snow, and made things cold. Even if the object of it's wrath didn't die from the cold, it would forever be changed, and would never be warm again._

 

"Have you ever drawn the dragon?" Thorin asks.

Bilbo reaches into the old backpack under the desk. It was full of papers, most crumpled and ripped, stained with something dark that certainly wasn't ink.

"I don't draw." Bilbo says, but he hands over a single piece of paper anyway. 

Thorin takes it, stares at it, at its boxed edges and crimpled lines. There was something scribbled in blue crayon on it - Thorin couldn't make out the shape, it was just something of childish representation, but it certainly didn't look normal. 

In the centre was something in red crayon. Just a circle, as though it had been drawn first and then the blue had been added later to ruin whatever it could have been.

 

_There was a traveller, once. The traveller didn't start travelling until the dragon came._

_Before the dragon, he wasn't really a traveller at all. He liked to go on adventures, and always took along his toy rabbits. There were two of them, one with light brown fur, one with a darker brown fur. They were very kind. The toys loved the traveller very much. They talked to him sometimes._

_When the dragon came, the toys stopped talking. They were cold, very cold. The adventurer became a traveller after that - he travelled in search of a new voice, a new rabbit, but he never forgot his first toys._

 

"Why rabbits?" Thorin asks. "Shouldn't a traveller have a map?"

"He doesn't know where he's going." Bilbo answers.

 

_The traveller was eventually found by a tall, graceful elf. He thought she would be his new voice, to replace the kind rabbits._

_That wasn't what the beautiful elf was meant to do. Instead, she took his hand, and told him that he would be a traveller now. She would take him to a new place, and told him the dragon would never come again._

_She was right, but the traveller found that the new place wasn't free of the cold either._

 

"Why an elf?" Thorin asks, his nose wrinkling.

Bilbo didn't answer.

Thorin thought that it might have meant Bilbo didn't know why the woman in his story was an elf, either. 

 

_The new place wasn't a very good place. There wasn't a dragon, but there was another kind of monster, one that was tall and scary and didn't wait for the right moment to strike, instead lashing out whenever it could._

_The traveller was afraid of the monster. It's breath smelt rotten and it was always sweating. It towered over him and had paws the size of his head. It made everything colder, even though it didn't breathe ice like the dragon did._

_The monster tried to destroy the rabbits that the traveller still carried with him. Even when the traveller cried out for them, the rabbits never came back to themselves, never came to save him. Neither did the elf._

_The monster liked his cries._

 

Thorin handed the picture back, his heart racing in his throat. He felt like he was going to throw up. 

 

_The monster made sure the traveller never escaped. It hurt him when no one looked, and could talk, and was good at lying._

_The monster made the traveller lie, too._

_He tried not to forget about his rabbits, about his elf. He stopped crying out for them, but he tried to remember them. He couldn't remember his rabbit's voices anymore, and he couldn't quite remember the colour eyes the elf had._

_He tried, but everything was too cold._

 

"Why don't you talk to adults?" Thorin asks.

Bilbo shrugs. He starts slowly kicking his feet. Both shoes remained buckled. The fan above them ticked as it slowly spun. Thorin's eyes were drawn Bilbo's drawing again, laying forgotten on the table top. It looked chaotic, and frightening, now.

Thorin glances back out of the window. His mother is watching him from the hallway, her eyebrows drawn up in worry. He wonders if she sees the paleness of his face.

She does, he thinks, because she enters the room with another loose strand of hair hanging beside her face. "Hey there, Bilbo. Are you feeling up to talking yet?"

Bilbo looks like he doesn't even hear her, but there's something in his eyes, something cold and twinkling and trembling that makes Thorin feel clammy. 

He suddenly wants to leave _everything,_ because the classroom is too clinical and it's all like it's in black and white and everything has been slowed down.

He jolts, palms sweating as he lurches off the tabletop. He thought he could do this - he's done it before, talking to victims, comforting them, but this is different, so, so different. 

He grabs Bilbo's hand, pulling him off the table too. He ignores his mother, ignores her shouts. He takes Bilbo from the room, running like there were a fire-breathing serpent snapping at his heels.

All he can hear is the sound of breathing, harsh, vast panting sounds that carry tones of desperation and fear and wateriness. He isn't sure which one of them is breathing. 

The end of the corridor enters his view, and he races for it, ignoring the rows of cold lockers that appear more like a crematory cemetery and the classrooms full of social workers and officers that are more like tall, unwavering trees in a foreboding forest than the previous figures of help he once thought of them as.

Thorin pushes open the doors, flinging Bilbo out into the open area by the hand. Bilbo is gasping for air, hair dishevelled as he grips Thorin's hand tight enough to bruise.

"it's not cold." Thorin says, reaching both hands to grip Bilbo's shoulders tightly. "I'll make it warm. It's not cold, you hear me? I'm talking, Bilbo. You can hear me talking."

Bilbo can't speak, but he grips Thorin's arms tightly, warm breath puffing along his skin. He flinches at the adults that come running out after them, panicked.

"Stop, please." Thorin pleads. "No more stories, no more elves, no more dragons. No more." He lifts a hand, touching his palm to the cold splash of colour along the six-year olds' cheek. "No more cold."

Bilbo slows his breathing, blinking at Thorin as if the world wasn't so black-and-white anymore. "No- no more...?"

Thorin grips him tightly, trying to chase away the panic still in his veins. "No more. I promise, Bilbo, no more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something that was very subjective and symbolic - as such, many things in this represent something else, like the summary suggests. I wonder if you understand? I'm not sure if it's too much, haha ^^"
> 
> I might explain it all tomorrow, but until then, tell me if you get it~


	22. Deigned To Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dwarves are not my kin, though, are they?"

Bilbo liked to watch the sunset from the western ramparts. No one often visited the large balcony - Bilbo thought it once would of been used as a reception area, but now it was still damaged by the dragon, so it was deserted.

He thought it had a special charm to it. Plants grew in the cracks of the stone, creeping across chunks of debris to wind up tall columns. From here, the sunset was directly in his line of sight.

"Bilbo?"

Bilbo lifted his hand off his cheek, turning to face the Dwarf that greets him from the doorway. "Ah, you found me." He smiles easily, unravelling his legs to slowly slip off the railing, where he'd been seated with his back against a pillar. "I'm surprised."

Thorin walks closer, his crown glinting in the dim sunlight. "Were you hiding?"

"Not intentionally." Bilbo answers. 

"Has someone bothered you?"

Bilbo smiles wanly. Thorin's ability to read him was uncanny, and a little unwelcome sometimes. "It's nothing that I can't handle."

Thorin frowns, coming to stand beside Bilbo. He rests his hands on the railing, leaning forwards casually. "Will you not let me help you?"

"Their words don't bother me." 

"They shouldn't be saying anything in the first place." Thorin says. "They do not understand how you've changed the world."

"And they likely shan't." Bilbo says. "Why do your words have to mean so much to them? They mean nothing to me."

Thorin sighs, and reaches out a large hand to cup the back of Bilbo's head. "The courage of Hobbits, even against their own kin..."

"Dwarves are not my kin, though, are they?"

Thorin turns to stare at him, eyes confused, as if that thought had never occurred to him. He startles at Bilbo's misty eyes, and pulls him closer, cradling him with a roughness that makes Bilbo feel a little stronger. 

"You're much better than that." He whispers. "You're not what you're hearing. I've watched you change, Bilbo, and no matter what anyone may say, you are my kin. You will never be anything less than the very air I breathe."

Bilbo rests against Thorin comfortably, huffing out breaths sporadically to control the raging emotions contorting his stomach. "This is more than a phase, isn't it? This..." He weakly gestures.

"It's a dream, Bilbo." Thorin answers reassuringly, kissing his lips to the crown of Bilbo's head. "And I've deigned not to awaken."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"To My Youth"_ explanation: 
> 
> The dragon is a reference to the Fell Winter - I used a dragon because it also reflects Smaug. "Cold" as such comes to represent negativity or pain.
> 
> The rabbits were Bilbo's parents. They died in the Fell Winter - in this, I believe it can be imagined as an avalanche or snow storm, but I'd prefer to think of it as a form of mental illness that probably took hold of his parents and therefore affected him. Essentially, whatever it may be that took their lives is viewed as the dragon.
> 
> The traveller is Bilbo. 
> 
> The elf is a social worker (I sort of pictured Galadriel or Tauriel in my head).
> 
> The monster is Bilbo's new foster parent - they're abusive (the "cold" on his cheek is a bruise; it's what notified the school to his home environment. The "rotten" breath is due to alcoholism. I imagined the monster could be reflective of Azog). 
> 
> Bilbo doesn't trust adults because he feels like his parents abandoned him and he was never able to mourn their deaths, nor does he understand it. He's uncomfortable with new environments, so despite originally liking the social worker she falls out of his favour when he is carted off to a new house. 
> 
> He doesn't like the foster parent for obvious reasons. The monster can also come to represent Bilbo's negative thoughts, of which he expresses through stories - he's been abused into lying about the truth.
> 
> Thorin's mother works for the government - sometimes the victims don't respond to adults, so she asks Thorin to help. This likely doesn't happen in the actual government system, but I wanted it to reflect Thorin's status in the Hobbit realm. 
> 
> Thorin himself doesn't properly understand Bilbo's tales - he's only about twelve - but he understands enough to feel something indescribable. 
> 
> I hope I conveyed this well. I wanted to write something that's poignant and connotes a tone of grief or melancholy, but I wanted it to remain subjective and realistic, as well. I had so many ideas for this, but nothing in my head seemed substantial enough, so it's something I hope I'll be able to formulate better in the future. 
> 
> It's hard to write, sometimes.


	23. Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Kili made friends with an Elf, Bilbo was delighted.
> 
> Fili, and Thorin... not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin implied~

When Kili made friends with an Elf, Bilbo was delighted.

Fili, and Thorin... not so much. Thorin had never been a fan of Elves, and tolerated them only for the purpose of political delegations and the survival of Erebor. Fili was polite, as the Prince, but he was effortlessly protective of Kili, and found it strange when they did not share an interest.

They did everything together, after all.

Bilbo sighs as Fili burrows into his side, fingers stuffed full of the cloak Bilbo wore to ward off the cold of Erebor's stone corridors. "Fili, Tauriel is quite a nice person." He says, tangling his finger's in Fili's golden locks. "You needn't worry."

Fili mutters something, nudging his nose against Bilbo's shoulder from where he'd hunched against him. 

Bilbo sighs again. "How about some tea, hmm?"

He doesn't wait for Fili's reply, instead detangling himself from the clingy Prince to make his way around the kitchen. "Then we'll go sit in the sunroom." He says, though he's unsure if Fili's listening. "Thorin will come join us, I'm sure. I think he's rather fond of my sunroom, even if he begrudged it in the beginning." 

After he's made the tea, and picked up a tin of biscuits he made the day before, he nudges Fili into moving and leads him up towards his sunroom. Fili holds onto the back of his coat, but he doesn't say anything. 

The sunroom was something Thorin had built for him; a room with as many bookshelves as he wanted and beautiful, plush armchairs and chaise lounges and windows that let in as much or maybe even more sunlight than the ones of Bag-End. It was his favourite place, and he could never thank Thorin enough for giving him such a wonderful space all to himself.

And their lovers, he supposed, if they were good.

With Fili curled up on his armchair, Bilbo placed down their teas and set to opening the curtains fully. Fili watched him through hazy eyes, his jealous pout still firmly stuck on his lips. 

"Want a biscuit?" He offers the tin to Fili.

Fili takes one, and hooks his arm around Bilbo's waist, pulling him down onto his lap.

Bilbo pats his hair reassuringly, and snacks on a biscuit himself.

He could partially understand Fili's behaviour. He and his brother had always been together, and Fili likely saw Tauriel as a threat. She was tall, and very beautiful, after all. He wasn't old enough or mature enough to be fully secure in any relationship, even the strange one they had (strange by Hobbit terms, but not uncommon amongst Dwarves, apparently). 

"Aren't you upset?" Fili mumbles.

Bilbo rubs the back of his neck comfortingly. "No." He says. "Not particularly."

"I can't help it." Fili says miserably. "Why can't he just socialise with us?"

Bilbo sighs, yet again. "There's nothing wrong with how you feel, Fili." He says. "So long as you don't act on it. Your brother is free to associate with who he wishes. I do not believe he'd do anything wrong with her. I rather believe Tauriel views him as nothing more than a close companion."

"How can you be so sure?" Fili asks, glancing up at Bilbo imploringly.

Bilbo kisses his forehead. "I just am." He says. "They share common interests, and I think Tauriel is glad to have her talents appreciated by someone. I doubt the Elves are always welcoming to her social status, and I think she's been a little lonely. Kili's interest probably intrigues her, and I think Kili just likes having a friend who enjoys archery as much as he does."

Fili chuckles, and rests his head on Bilbo's shoulder, placated. "I suppose you're right." 

"Of course I am." Bilbo snorts. "Have another biscuit."

It was some time later when Thorin came to join them, well into the afternoon when the sun was arming the room in quite a lazy manner.

Fili had all but sunk into the seat, and Bilbo was sprawled atop of him, a book in his lap. Both were quite comfortable. Thorin took one look at them and sighed, as though he was put out, but Bilbo knew it was just because they must have looked quite ridiculous.

"Is Kili still with the Elf?" Thorin grumbles.

Bilbo rolls his eyes. "Yes, dear."

Thorin wanders across to drop a kiss on his forehead, then one of Fili's, too. "I see. Have you been here all day?"

"Most of it."

Thorin hums, and sits on the arm of the chair to absently run his fingers through Bilbo's hair. "I don't suppose Kili will be returning any time soon?"

"He'll return eventually." Bilbo says. "Leave him be." 

"If only I were as tolerant as you, ghivashel." Thorin sighs.

Fili mumbles an agreement. 

"Yes, well. I'm tolerant enough for us all, I suppose."

"What if someone showed romantic interest in Kili?" Fili asks, peeking open an eye to peer at Bilbo sceptically. "In any of us, for that matter?"

Bilbo thinks for a moment, before shrugging. "Well, I wouldn't be a tolerant Hobbit anymore!"


	24. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo can't swim.
> 
> Thorin is a swimming instructor.

Bilbo never learned to swim. He lived in a wooded, forest area with nothing more than a shallow creek called the Brandywine River, close. He could count the number of times he's been to the beach and the local pool on one hand, so swimming has never really been a skill he's needed to acquire. 

Of course, now that he'd become the legal guardian of his young nephew, Frodo, he was persistent in getting him lessons. He didn't want Frodo to be afraid of the water, especially not with how Primula and Drogo passed. 

Besides, Frodo seemed to enjoy it. He was never afraid to wander down to the Brandywine Creek (under Bilbo's watchful eye) or to splash around in the tub as thought it were three times as large as it actually was.

Bilbo was still a little hesitant. Frodo was only just shy of three years old, so his "lessons" were rather basic, but seeing his baby submerged in water always had his heart fluttering. He was really apprehensive about it first, even though he knew it would be for Frodo's benefit. 

Still, Frodo seemed to enjoy swimming. It helped that the instructor was so friendly, too.

His name was Thorin Oakenshield. He looked kind of intimidating, so his classes were rather small - most parents preferred having one of the other instructors teach their kids. Bilbo only picked Thorin because Thorin had been the one to greet Frodo when they'd walked in - Frodo had taken to him rather well, and Bilbo didn't really think him so fearsome. 

He was quite a good instructor, too. His hands were large and gentle, and he was endlessly patient. He always gave the kids ten minutes of play time, too, with little wind up toys that swum through the water and floating animals that all the kids adored. 

Sometimes it was just Frodo being taught by Thorin, too. Some parents didn't take the lessons as seriously as Bilbo did - they likely could swim, and their children were probably taught at home, too. 

Bilbo couldn't do that with Frodo, so he was very attentive with the lessons. 

Sometimes Thorin asked him to join them - he called it a bonding experience. While Bilbo would of liked to, his lack of swimming abilities made him apprehensive. He hadn't told Thorin that, until Thorin wrangled the truth out of him with several charming smiles.

"Ah, well, I can't swim." Bilbo admits, smiling a little bashfully as he held Frodo on his hip, regardless of the water that seeps through his clothes. "That's why I want Frodo to learn how to."

Thorin stares at him, looking vaguely offended. "You can't swim?"

Bilbo shakes his head.

"I have to teach you!" Thorin declares, looking at him incredulously. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have been teaching you for ages." 

Bilbo flushes. 

"Bring a swimsuit next time." Thorin demands. "I'm going to teach you." 

Bilbo was rather hesitant about the whole situation, to be honest. He wasn't very body-confident, and wearing a skin tight suit - even if it covered him from neck to knees - did make him rather nervous. 

Thorin just grinned at him, though, when he arrived carrying Frodo in his arms. 

Thorin had a very... well, a very attractive body. Bilbo wasn't afraid to admit that. He wore a suit that was skin tight, and highlighted all the muscles in his arms and his back. Thorin was a very attractive person, there was no denying it.

Bilbo hardly entered the water, that lesson. He sat on the ledge in the water, submerged up to his chest, and watched Frodo's lesson. It was sort of an introduction to the water, he supposed - he was very thankful for it.

He didn't think he could stand in the deep end and have his head above water, not like Thorin. 

Thorin did lead him around the shallow end for a bit, though, a hand comfortably perched on the small of his back. It was rather nice.

It was after the lesson that Bilbo had a small... _accident._

Thorin had his back turned, to shuffle through some paperwork in search of a few that Bilbo had to sign (Frodo was being bumped up a lesson, though Thorin would remain his instructor). The toddler had wandered too close to the edge, and Bilbo watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Frodo slipped-

"Frodo!" He cries in shock, his arms instantly grabbing for the child. Frodo falls to the concrete beside the pool (but not _in it,_ Bilbo thinks with relief), just as Bilbo's foot slips on the wet floor and he goes tumbling into the water. 

The water was a cold shock to his lungs. He flailed for a moment, head burning.

It only takes a moment before strong arms were yanking him upwards. He breaks through the surface of the water with ugly gasping noises, gripping onto Thorin's arms with a hold tight enough to probably bruise. 

"Bilbo- Bilbo, are you alright?" Thorin frets, heaving him up onto the ledge of the pool. "You didn't swallow any water, did you?"

Bilbo coughs, waving a hand frantically as he wipes at his watery eyes. "Fine- M' fine." He mutters, sucking in a deep breath before offering Thorin a weak smile. "Really can't swim, is all."

Thorin huffs out a weak laugh, leaning forwards to rest his wet forehead on Bilbo's shoulder. "Don't scare me like that." He says. 

Bilbo accepts the hug Frodo forces into his side, soothing the child with a hand down his back. "Sorry." He says, though he's not sure he's apologising to. 

Thorin gives him a smile. "I'm going to teach you to swim whether you like it or not." He declares.

Bilbo manages a laugh. "Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by SunlightQueen


	25. Something Borrowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo thinks he looks like a barrel.

Bilbo loved the winter seasons. He liked the weight of all the blankets he used at night and curling up in front of the fire place and wearing all his favourite sweaters. Of course, the food was always heady and warming, too.

This winter, however, was a little more... difficult. 

It was entirely Thorin's fault, too.

Bilbo huffed as he stared at himself in the mirror. This was his _favourite_ sweater, the one that was way too big for him - usually. 

Now, however, he was struggling to pull it over the curve of his stomach. He pulled at the hem, trying to get the soft fabric to fit properly, but there was not helping it. He was too big.

He knew it would happen, eventually, but he wasn't emotionally prepared to see his midriff expanded quite this much.

"Bilbo? What are you doing?" Thorin asks, peering into the room.

Bilbo purses his lips, determined not to cry. He stares at his reflection firmly. 

Thorin wanders over, slipping his hands around Bilbo's waist to rest on his stomach. He noses at the side of Bilbo's head, pressing a soft kiss there. "Feeling okay?"

Bilbo pouts furiously, eyes watery. "I look like a _barrel."_

Thorin snorts, nuzzling Bilbo's head. "Love, you're pregnant."

Bilbo glares at him, folding his arms. The sleeves of his sweater stretched uncomfortably, and he only got more upset. 

Thorin sighs. "Come on, take this off." He says, pulling the hem of the sweater up. "You don't look anything like a barrel."

Bilbo just whines, allowing Thorin to pull the sweater off of him. He stares at his bare torso with as much contempt as he done with the sweater, lifting a hand to rub absently at his stomach. He was due in a few weeks, but he was already extremely impatient.

Thorin returns with a different shirt, one that buttoned up and was a dark blue in colour.

Bilbo frowns. "That's your favourite shirt..." He says. Thorin wore the shirt on important occasions - he really loved the colour, and it worked extremely well on him.

Thorin hums in reply. "It is." He says, manhandling Bilbo's arms into the sleeves of the shirt with a surprising amount of gentleness. "And it looks rather becoming on you."

Bilbo watches, eyes a little wide, as Thorin dutifully buttons up each individual button. The shirt fit over his stomach with a small amount of breathing room. It was _comfortable_ and as Thorin turned him to look at himself in the mirror, he found that he didn't look quite so barrel-like anymore. 

"There." Thorin grins, obviously appeased, as he smooths his hands down Bilbo's sides. "Not so bad, huh?"

Bilbo laughs, scrubbing at his eyes once. "Not bad." He agrees, turning in Thorin's grip to hug him as tightly as he could around the bump of his stomach. 

Thorin just grins, hands splayed across Bilbo's bad. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests are open once more, so if you want to send something in, feel free~ ^^


	26. Suspicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is suspicious of Bilbo, at first.

It was cold, too cold, and he didn't know where he was going.

Bilbo wobbled on his feet, shivering, as he gripped a tree for support. He'd never been this far from his house, not without his Mama or Papa. He didn't know where to go from here, but he couldn't go back. His Mama told him not to, before she'd gone to sleep.

Bilbo shivered again, sniffling as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. The snow beneath his feet was making his toes cold - something he didn't think he'd experienced before. 

He whimpered, and sunk to the ground to wrap his fingers around his toes. He wanted to go him, but Mama said he couldn't, and the big mean dogs would get him if he did. 

Standing again, he started to toddle down the road where the frost and snow wasn't quite so deep. He didn't know how close the next house was, or how far from his own he'd wandered. 

It wasn't long before he was too tired to keep walking again. He sunk to the ground again, whimpering, staring petulantly at the snow that seeped through his trousers. 

The sound of horses made his heart leap. It was only a moment before a company of riders appeared at the bend of the road, coming from the direction of the Shire. Bilbo, frozen with fear, could only watch through teary eyes as they approach. 

They weren't Hobbits, he thought. Their feet were little and covered, and their ears weren't pointed. And he'd never seen anyone with so much _hair_ on their faces. 

"Stop." One of the riders said, as she dismounted the horse.

Bilbo drew away as she approached, eyes stricken.

But the woman just smiled, and extended a gloved hand. "Hello there, little one. Where are you heading?"

Bilbo shivers, sniffling again. 

"Oh, you poor dear, come here." She reaches forwards, scooping him up into her arms to dust the snow off his legs. "Balin, bring a blanket, he's shivering."

Bilbo shoves a knuckle in his mouth, biting it to quieten his whimpers. Another person hands the woman a blanket, which she slips around his shoulders and tucks under his feet. 

"Don't worry, little one." She soothes, cradling him close. "You'll be alright."

 

Erebor was a big place. Bilbo wanted to go back to the Shire, but he knew he couldn't.

The Dwarves were very nice, though. A woman named Ris took care of him - he thought she was really pretty, and the crown she wore was also very nice (though Bilbo didn't like jewellery all that much).

Ris has a son who was older than Bilbo, but still a kid. His name was Thorin.

Bilbo didn't think Thorin liked him very much. He was always scowling, and he never talked to Bilbo unless Ris told him to. And Thorin never wanted to play with him, either.

Sometimes it was hard living in Erebor. Bilbo was really small compared to the Dwarves, and he sometimes got caught underfoot. Most of the Dwarves didn't seem to mind having a Hobbit with them, but Bilbo thought that it was mostly because Ris liked him, and everyone else liked Ris.

Bilbo got lost in Erebor, sometimes, too. Now was an example - he had no idea where he was going, and was on the verge crying as he watched Dwarves hustle and bustle through the corridor.

There was a large walkway, one without railings, that stretched between two hallways and was very high up. Bilbo thought he had to cross to get back to the dining hall, where he wanted to go, but he wasn't sure. He wanted to cross it, but every time he edged out from behind a pillar he clutched he felt as though the floor was giving way. 

Bilbo wobbled on his feet as he stared at the walkway. He had to get across, but...

"What are you doing?"

Bilbo jumps at the unexpected voice, turning his eyes up at the Dwarf that stood before him. "I..."

Thorin lifted a brow impatiently, his young face twisting into a scowl.

Bilbo's lips puckered as tears pooled in his eyes. 

Thorin startled, as if he hadn't expected Bilbo to start crying. He huffed, and reached forward to yank one of Bilbo's hands into his own. "Don't be a cry-baby." He mumbles, pulling Bilbo along behind him.

Bilbo stumbles, but quickly catches his bearings. Almost instantly he latches onto Thorin's arm, eyes widely fixed on the edge of the walkway.

Thorin shuffles him along before he can really get a good look at the drop.

 

After that, Bilbo constantly sought out Thorin's attention.

Surprisingly, the Dwarfling was willing to provide it. He seemed to take it upon himself to become Bilbo's personal bodyguard, glaring away anyone who dared to approach him and leading him through the corridors by the hand and even cuddling with Bilbo if the Hobbit pestered him enough.

Ris thought her son was just being his usual grumpy self. 

"He didn't like the young Hobbit at first, did he." Balin muses, as he shares a cup of tea with her.

Ris chuckles, and shakes her head, fondly watching Thorin fuss over Bilbo as they shared an armchair by the roaring fire. "No, he was rather suspicious of Bilbo." She admits. "He's always been like that - gets it from his father's distaste of Elves."

Balin smiles, placing down his cup to sit more comfortably. "They're rather close now." He observes. "It's almost like Bilbo is his One."

Ris hides a knowing smile into her tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Solutionforreality~


	27. Suspicious Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is still grumpy, even when he's older.
> 
> Luckily, Bilbo is more reasonable.

"And then the Orcs fell-"

Bilbo nods, humming politely as he stitches a line of embroidery down his freshly sewn coat.

"And then I-"

He was hardly listening to the Dwarf, if he were being honest. It didn't take a genius to realise the Dwarf was showing off, and would continue to do so, despite Bilbo's noticeable lack of interest.

He wouldn't say it happened often, but he was a Hobbit - something different, after all, and someone close with the royal family too. Ris was rather fond of him, after all. He knew most Dwarves that showed interest in him would eventually waver, because they didn't _know_ him. It wasn't like Bilbo was particularly interested in them, either - he never overly made eyes at anyone, and never asked anyone to spend time with him in such a manner.

"... Would you like to accompany me?"

Bilbo startles at that, and almost pricks his finger with his sewing needle. "Ah..."

"Bilbo!"

He cringed at the voice that called him, and turned his head to watch Thorin approach. The Dwarven Prince was still dressed in his training armour, and had his thick hair pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes glared rather ferociously at the Dwarf standing beside Bilbo. 

"Good afternoon, Thorin." Bilbo says, offering him a placating smile.

Thorin huffs, and sends the Dwarf a stern stare. "Leave." He demands.

The Dwarf bulks, affronted, but bows and leaves, nevertheless. 

Bilbo frowns, placing down the fabric in his hands. "Thorin, you shouldn't abuse your position like that." He says. 

Thorin turns his gaze down on him. "What was that?"

"What was that?"

"You were messing around with another Dwarf!" 

Bilbo blinks in shock. "Pardon?"

Thorin huffs - Bilbo thought this was one of the most spectacular hissy fits he'd thrown. "You were _messing around with another Dwarf."_ He snarls.

Bilbo narrows his eyes. "Thorin if you're going to act like this-"

"Like what?" He challenges, glaring.

"Like an _idiot,"_ Bilbo snaps, standing. "Then I'm not going to hang around!"

 

It was warm and sunny outside in the garden Bilbo grew. 

He sighed as he finally finished his embroidery, and placed away his needle in favour of holding up the coat. It was made from the finest blue fabric he could find, and lined with soft fur. It was much too big for him - but perfect for Thorin to grow into.

Bilbo was rather proud of his work. He'd been practicing a big project like this for a while, so he hoped Thorin liked it. He'd even embroidered Thorin's name into the hem.

He'd wait for Thorin to seek him out. Bilbo thought he was probably the more reasonable of the two - Thorin got incessantly jealous, and was sometimes irrational. He still had some growing up to do, but Bilbo had mellowed out over the years, in the sense that he didn't get riled up by trivial things so easily. 

Bilbo reached for the wildflowers that grew through the small meadow. They weren't used for anything, so he started to weave them, planning to spend his time waiting for Thorin by making crowns.

He'd just finished the first when he heard the reluctant steps of his Dwarven Prince.

Thorin took a seat beside him, looking decidedly grumpy and downtrodden. "Bilbo, I want to apologize." He starts. "For being so rude to you. I had no right to..."

"To botch a courting attempt." Bilbo provides.

"To botch a courting attempt." Thorin grates out forcefully.

"You're correct." Bilbo says, adding one last flower into the crown. "You didn't have the right."

Thorin glances at him, looking more upset than Bilbo has ever seen him. "I'm sorry..."

Bilbo smiles a little, twisting the crown in his hands. "You're very slow, you know." Bilbo states. "If you would of just asked me, then this would have never happened. Here." He forces the coat into Thorin's hands.

Thorin stares at him, startled, before staring down at the coat in his grip.

"Well? What do you think?"

"It's for me...?" Thorin asks, shocked.

"Well, it does have your name on it." Bilbo says as he reaches across to settle the crown around Thorin's head. "I'm not terribly good at making jewellery or working with metal, so I hope this suffices. And I know these aren't traditional flowers, but any flowers should be fine amongst Hobbits, I think." 

"But..."

"I wasn't sure when... _if_ you were ever going to ask me." Bilbo says, rubbing the back of his neck a little nervously. "Cause you're always busy, and you never showed any intention - aside from being rather possessive for someone unattached, if I may say so."

Thorin flushes, but settles the cloak across his laps. "I've never seen anything so expertly made." He compliments.

Bilbo grins, pleased. "I'm glad. It may be a little big, but you will grow into it. I doubt your shoulders have finished expanding just yet." He chuckles.

Thorin sighs, but he looks undeniably happy as he reaches a hand to grip the back of Bilbo's neck, drawing him closer. "Whatever did I do to deserve you?"

Bilbo smiles, falling into Thorin's grip pliantly, shocking the Dwarf. He stares up at Thorin adoringly, his cheek resting on Thorin's chest. "You led me across those bridges." He says.

Thorin offers him a flustered smile. "You remember something from so long ago?"

"Of course I do." Bilbo snorts. "It was the first time you were ever nice to me."

Thorin grumbles something unintelligent, but doesn't deny it. 

"So you accept, right?" Bilbo asks, glancing up again. "Just to be clear..."

"Of course!" Thorin exclaims in a rush. "I mean, I do, yes."

Bilbo laughs again.

Thorin just sighs, smiling to himself as he tangles his fingers in Bilbo's hair and holds him close. "You're the most unexpected thing to ever happen to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Keelythebiteykitty~


	28. For The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin holds his child for the first time.

Bilbo's pregnancy hadn't been the easiest. 

He was a Hobbit, for one, and therefore not properly equipped to bear a Dwarven child, even if they were not fully Dwarven. It didn't help that Thorin was taller in stature than the average Dwarf - Bilbo had no doubt their child would take after Thorin.

The baby was a strong kicker all through his pregnancy. Bilbo developed bruises along his stomach towards the end of his pregnancy, and was lucky not to have a rib broken. Thorin was extremely stressed, and more frustrated than Bilbo - he was pushing for an early birth, one that complied with the Hobbit gestation period, but Bilbo refused.

If his child were to be half-Dwarven, then he would grow for an entire Dwarven pregnancy (even if it was three months longer than the average eight-month Hobbit pregnancy). 

The birth was no simpler, either. Bilbo didn't think he could perform a natural birth - he wasn't even female, to begin with, and the child was much too big. He could hardly walk, and was too drained of energy to even make it to the infirmary. Thorin had carried him!

Still, Bilbo had no qualms about the birth. He wasn't that worried, not like Thorin at least. 

He knew it would be painful, too, especially considering the baby would be bigger than a Fauntling. Oin had provided him with numbing salves that really worked a charm, so the incision didn't hurt, but the hours he spent in labour beforehand did. Bilbo was sure Thorin would be left with bruises, because he'd rather hold Thorin's arm and whimper than scream.

It was all worth it, in the end. To hear that first cry as the pressure in his stomach was lifted... Bilbo would never forget it.

The child that was passed into his arms was beautiful. The little thing screamed and grizzled and whined until the rocking motion of Bilbo's arms soothed him. Soft, downy hair that was the same shade as Thorin's hair covered his head and just barely touched the top of his rounded ears. It was curly, which made Bilbo smile. His nose wasn't as strong as Thorin's, but still soft and infantile - Bilbo wandered how his face would change as he grew, or if he'd retain the same chubbiness in his cheeks that Bilbo did.

His feet weren't like a Hobbit's, which was something Bilbo couldn't help but marvel over. He had soft, tiny toes and wrinkled soles and nails so small Bilbo could hardly see them, and the child squirmed as Bilbo tickled him.

He was perfect.

"Thorin." Bilbo murmurs, glancing up at his husband. The Dwarves had left him to bond with the child as soon as he'd emerged and been cleaned - no one other than Bilbo or Oin had held him, and Bilbo thought that was very considerate, but he'd like to change that.

Thorin came as soon as he was bid, eyes wide with something Bilbo had never seen.

"It's a boy." Bilbo smiles around his panting breathes, of which were finally starting to level out. "Baby Frerin."

Thorin blinked rapidly, pursing his lips. He looked as though he was going to cry - Bilbo hadn't told him about the name he'd chosen, of course, despite Thorin's curiosity. 

"Want to hold him?"

Thorin nods, and settles onto the bed beside Bilbo carefully. 

Bilbo gingerly slid the slumbering infant into Thorin's arms, heart fluttering. The child looked so _small,_ he fit into the crook of Thorin's elbow without a single toe out of line. 

"He's so little." Thorin breathes, eyes firmly fixed on Frerin's sleeping face. "He looks like me..."

Bilbo chuckles. "Of course he does. I knew he would."

Thorin offers him a dazzling grin, and settles down beside him properly to rest against the pillows and secure the baby between them both, so that Bilbo could see his face too. "He looks like you as well." Thorin says. "His nose, and his lips..."

"His feet are yours." Bilbo laughs. "His ears, and his hair, too."

"But it's curly." Thorin argues, chuckling. "I'll bet he has your eyes."

Bilbo rests his head on Thorin's shoulder, yawning. "It's strange to see you holding a child. It's not something I could ever picture."

Thorin snorts, though he seems amused. "Good strange?"

Bilbo nods. "'Course." He murmurs. "I'm tired."

"It's to be expected." Thorin says, brushing his lips across Bilbo's sweaty forehead. "Rest for now, âmralimê, I will watch over you."

"And Frerin." Bilbo reminds him sleepily.

Thorin huffs out quiet laughter, and bends to press his lips across the baby's tiny forehead, too. "And Frerin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Meg_Thilbo~


	29. A Crown Of Rubies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is a thief.

Hobbits weren't always violent creatures.

Bilbo's heard tales about a place called the Shire, where Hobbits once lived. He couldn't imagine it, if he were being perfectly honest. He hadn't grown up like that. In a world of petty theft and assassinations and unrelenting crime, being the one to walk in the shadows unseen and unheard was a great advantage. 

Half the time, Bilbo didn't even properly meet the people that hired him. He wasn't much of a killer, or a fighter - he had little to no muscle to speak of, and was not very good at holding a sword or swinging an axe.

He was exceptionally light on his feet, though - he made an excellent burglar. 

Generally, Bilbo only met his clients twice. Firstly, to receive the commission, and lastly, to deliver it. He didn't like extended contact, it was too risky.

Sometimes his jobs were easy. Stealing money was common. Family heirlooms was another commonplace theft, things like spoons and portraits and jewels. It was all the things he wasn't that interested in, but he didn't question it. He just did his job.

Still, when he was commissioned by _Dwarves_ to steal a _Dwarven_ object, he was a little confused. It wasn't often that he was asked to steal something from a rightful owner; he could tell these things apart, and he found it odd.

However, a job was a job, so he might as well get to it...

 

His jobs weren't always flawless.

This was, for example, was going _extremely_ wrong.

His target was _King of the Dwarves._ That right there was like a little red flag, but it wasn't as though he hadn't stolen from royalty before. Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, was an example - Bilbo couldn't even think of the Elven King without feeling a little guilty, but he was more amused than anything.

Thorin Oakenshield was not like the Elven King at all. For one, he had his own master thieves, and while they were nothing like Bilbo's standard, they were still rather skilled. They knew he was around long before Bilbo expected, and while it was amusing to watch them search for him, he was also somewhat concerned. The Dwarves were certainly the swiftest to sense him.

It didn't help that the treasury was _huge._

He'd been hired to steal a crown of rubies with a specific seal on the back. He knew what it looked like, but that was no help whatsoever in a treasury that filled out entire _halls._

Really, it was like he was set up for failure. It got to the point where he was sick of digging through mountains of gold for something he never thought he would find. He specifically asked about the difficulty of this commission, and had only taken it because he had been assured there was no other crown like the one he needed to find.

Bilbo couldn't help but roll his eyes as he thought back to the dozen ruby crowns he'd found before he'd come across his target. He wasn't getting paid enough for this - instead, he found that he was rather enjoying leading the Dwarves on a chase around the mountain for a mysterious, disappearing thief. 

Of course, it was amusing until he was found.

He was sitting up in a rafter, watching Dwarves scurry around below him like madmen when he sensed someone approaching. No one could mask their footsteps like a Hobbit could, but this Dwarf was very good at it, and may have even caught Bilbo off guard a little.

Of course that Dwarf turned out to be Thorin Oakenshield.

Bilbo had just grinned, twirling the ruby crown around his finger in an attempt to mask his nervousness. 

"I wouldn't have found you," Thorin says, eyes alight with amusement, "If the light had not glinted off of that crown."

Bilbo stills the crown. "My, what a mighty treasure hoard you have." He says instead. "One would think you are a dragon."

Thorin moves over to take a seat beside him, legs hanging off the rafter. "You're very good at your job." He remarks.

"I should hope so." Bilbo agrees. "But I'm certainly not getting paid enough to dig through your mountain."

Thorin chuckles. "I suppose we have much to discuss."

Bilbo frowns, raising a brow. "Do we? This is not how things usually turn out."

"I'm guessing you _usually_ complete your job." Thorin answers, glancing at the crown. "And get paid accordingly. You have been here for some time."

Bilbo hums. "I have." He agrees. "It did take me a while to find this." He lifts the crown.

Thorin reaches for it, but Bilbo draws it back, making the King frown. "Who commissioned you?"

Bilbo eyes him. "And why should I tell you? Don't give me the _I can have you captured_ routine, either, because I think we both know that won't work."

Thorin smiles, but it's a more serious and intelligent smile than Bilbo expected. "Oh, I believe there is much more... that I can offer."

Bilbo startles, feeling oddly flushed at the salacious tone the King takes on. He clears his throat, trying not to frown again.

"Work for me." Thorin says.

Bilbo stares at him, surprised. 

"Be my personal burglar." Thorin clarifies. "Work for me, get paid by me, and obey my orders. There will not be much I cannot provide - and that includes work and entertainment, if you should so want it."

"How do I know you will not lock me up and throw away the key?" Bilbo counters. "Yours is not the first offer I have received, and I doubt it shall be the last. What makes your Kingdom under the mountain so special?"

Thorin just grins. 

 

In the end, Bilbo remained, lured by promises made by an admittedly handsome King.

He had no qualms about giving up the names of the Dwarves who would steal from their own ruler, and was rather amused at the antics of Thorin's company as he explained Bilbo's presence while the Hobbit lounged around the expansive dining table.

He had to admit, he rather enjoyed living at Erebor, after a while. The King's thieves, in particular the expert, was rather concerned with one-upping Bilbo. While Nori was very skilled, he couldn't hold a candle to Bilbo - no one could, but it was still amusing, and it kept Bilbo on his toes.

Thorin's promises all came to fruition, at some point, too. There was always something for Bilbo to do, and he even was granted his own _garden._ An odd request from someone like him, surely, but one that Thorin was readily able to fill.

And there were other things to keep Bilbo occupied - mainly one flirtatious King who was extremely talented at flattering Bilbo into a flustered mess.

It was pretty easy to say that Thorin's attentions were one of the reasons Bilbo stayed. For some reason, the King just _loved_ having Bilbo's attention, and was very adept at returning it - more so than Bilbo was used to, for that matter.

Bilbo didn't really think that was a problem, though.

Quite the opposite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned


	30. Fate And Circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo, surprisingly, isn't afraid of the mafia boss.

Bilbo's parents were very spiritual. They believed in crystal healing and herbalism and grew a garden bigger than their kitchen with more plants than Bilbo could count.

It was no wonder he followed in their footsteps - he loved all the little crystals and the apothecary and the way his house overflowed with plants from every corner and crevice. It was rather refreshing, and brought a very good energy to his home. 

Sometimes there were things that happened that even Bilbo couldn't predict. Bilbo liked to think that fate would lead him where he needed to be, and while many would criticise such a mindset, he paid no mind to it.

So when he was suddenly in a position where he was _saving someone's life,_ he sort of just... went with it. What else was he to do?

The man's name was Thorin Oakenshield. He was rather handsome, Bilbo would admit, with thick black hair and charming blue eyes and shoulders broader that Bilbo had ever seen.

He looked kind of scary, but Bilbo wasn't particularly frightened by him - not like the people on the street, however, who kept a wide birth and looked at Bilbo like he was mad as he forcefully pulled Thorin out of the way of a speeding car.

"Are you all right?" Bilbo cried, even as they both tumble to the ground and the car swerves in the street before disappearing around the corner. "It drove right at you! Why would anyone do that?" He ranted, huffing.

Thorin had looked at him after he'd said that as though Bilbo were crazy, before politely introducing himself like he hadn't been almost run over by some maniac. 

Of course, at that point Bilbo must have been the only person in the entire town to not know Thorin was the head of the mafia - at least, one of the mafias (the other had tried to run him over, Bilbo learned).

Bilbo didn't quite understand why the two families fought so much, but it had something to do with a long-standing rivalry. Really, it was completely out of balance.

He hadn't thought he'd suddenly have a mafia member as a personal bodyguard, either, and yet...

Bilbo sighs as a shadow moves across his porch. It was too early in the morning to be the mailman, so Bilbo knew it was Thorin. He'd long since gotten used to the man following him, so he climbed out of bed, put on a big shirt (one that smelt suspiciously like Thorin) and went to greet the man. 

"Why don't you just come in?" Bilbo asks around a yawn as he peeks his head out of the front door. "I know you know where the spare key is."

"Keeping it under your pot plant isn't the most creative spot." Thorin answers, wandering in past him.

"Yes, but I have _fourteen_ potted plants on my porch." Bilbo grins cheekily. "How will anyone know which is the right one?"

"They'll look?" Thorin raises his brows.

Bilbo stares at him for a moment, before huffing. "It's too early in the morning for your confusing talk." He declares. "Let me have a cup of tea first."

Thorin hums in reply, following him into the kitchen. "You really should put better locks on your windows." 

"My locks are fine."

"I'll have Nori fix them for you."

"You mustn't trouble him."

"Or you could move in with me."

"I'm not moving in with you."

"I'll move in here then." 

Bilbo laughs quietly, turning his gaze back up to Thorin. "You needn't worry so much, Thorin." He says. "I'm perfectly fine here."

Thorin frowns. "You know they'll hurt you, because you're associated with me." He says. "I want you to be safe."

Bilbo sighs contemplatively. "You know, my cousin thinks I'm becoming unsociable." He tells Thorin. "Having a mafia member for a friend, and all. And you know that I have no problem with that-"

Thorin snorts. "You really should."

"-But I can't help but feel that if you're going to be here in all but bed then you might as well move in."

Thorin startles, staring at him as though he hadn't expected Bilbo to relent so easily. "Really?"

Bilbo gives him a look. "Thorin, you're here just as much as I am. Your mug is in my cupboard, and your clothes are currently hanging on my washing line. You might as well bring your pillow, too."

Thorin gives him a charming yet vaguely smug look, and dips to press his lips against Bilbo's cheek. "I'll be back in an hour, then." He says quietly. "You better make room for me in your drawers."

Bilbo hums, pleasantly warmed by the heat of Thorin's body and the faint scratchiness of his beard. "My drawers have been half empty for at least two weeks now, you know."

Thorin grins, and leaves after that.

Bilbo sighs into his teacup, smiling. He never knew that saving a stranger from being run over would have leave him with a man like Thorin at his side, but it was very much worth it.

Fate was just like that.


	31. Munchkins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anaesthesia drugs and Bilbo don't mix too well.

Bilbo broke his leg.

Now that in itself wasn't all that problematic - or, it wouldn't have been if he had managed to break it cleanly. That, of course, wasn't what happened, and instead he broke it in an awful spot and needed to be put under to set it in place properly.

Again, that in itself wasn't _too_ problematic. He could handle that, thank you very much, but it was made much more difficult by one teeny tiny detail he and everyone else failed to overlook.

Thorin, his faithful and attentive husband, was overseas.

In the end, after a panicked call to him which probably would result in a sort of expensive phone bill, it was Thorin's nephews that came to Bilbo's rescue. While Bilbo trusted them, they weren't exactly the most _careful-_

Granted, they only knocked Bilbo's leg twice, once helping him in the car and again when they tried to help him after knocking him into the car. Really, they were darlings for trying, but it was kind of painful.

"Don't worry, Uncle." Kili grinned at him reassuringly as he gripped one of Bilbo's hands. "You'll be perfectly fine! I'll make sure they don't chop off your leg-"

Fili whacked him across the back of the head with a scowl. "Kili, don't say that! What if they do, then what are you going to say?"

Bilbo blinked at the both of them. "When's Thorin's flight again...?"

Bofur pushed through the both of them, and took Bilbo's hand in his own. "Now you don't worry about a thing, Bilbo." He said comfortingly. "These two'll mess with yer head, but there's nothing to concern yourself over. Thorin's earliest flight is tomorrow morning - you should still be here when he arrives, all fixed and resting."

Bilbo offered him a thankful, albeit weak smile. "Thanks."

 

Waking up felt odd, like his limbs weren't really his limbs.

He couldn't help but frown at the familiar faces that loomed over him. Didn't anyone know what personal space meant? He wanted his personal space back, all four-hundred-and-three centimetres of it.

"Bilbo, can you hear me?" A man with a strange moustache asks, peering at him.

Bilbo stares, blinking owlishly.

"Yer surgery went just fine." He says, grinning. "And Thorin's flight is only a few hours out."

Bilbo's eyes widen. "Thorin?"

The man - _Bofur,_ his brain supplies helpfully - grins at him again. "Yeah, your husband." He nods. "Want me to call him for ya?"

Bilbo hums. "You have a funny moustache."

Bofur snorts as he taps away at his phone. "You keep believing that." He says.

"Where are the munchkins?" Bilbo asks. "There were munchkins here before."

"Munchkins?" Bofur raises a brow, glancing up. "There was no one here but me and- oh! You mean Kili and Fili?"

"Shh!" Bilbo cries. "You gotta- you can't call 'em that!"

Bofur gives him a startled look. "Why not?"

"They're _munchkins."_

Bofur sighs, and holds his phone to his ear. "You know, the doctor said you'd be loopy, but this is- hello! Hi there, Thorin-"

"Thorin?" Bilbo asks again. "Where?"

"He's fine, Thorin! Yes- yes... Give me a second, jeez." Bofur huffs into the phone, and turns it to face Bilbo. "Here you go, you grumpy man."

Bilbo squints at the phone, and jumps when Thorin's face peers back at him.

"Bilbo!" The phone-Thorin grins, leaning closer. "How are you feeling?"

Bilbo turns his eyes up to Bofur. "That's not Thorin!" He accuses. "Thorin is... Thorin is _bigger_ than that."

Bofur snorts, and reaches for his hand. "Here, hold it like this." He says, slipping the phone into Bilbo's grip. "There you go."

"Bilbo?"

Bilbo turns his gaze back down to the not-Thorin. "Why're you so small?"

"Bilbo, this is just the camera." Thorin says, confused. "Are you feeling alright? You're not in pain, are you?"

"How do I know you're the _real_ Thorin?" Bilbo demands. "Tell me who Fili and Kili are!"

"They're-"

"Say they're munchkins." Bofur provides.

Thorin looks vaguely put off, but carefully mutters, "They're munchkins?"

Bilbo gapes. "How'd you know that?" He cries. "Oh, you _must_ be the real Thorin! Why aren't you here with me? Did I upset you? Are you mad at me?"

"What?" Thorin's eyes widen. "No, love, I'm not mad at all!"

"Then why?" Bilbo sniffles, turning his head away. "You're not here..."

"Darling, I'm coming as fast as I can..."

"But you're not here!" Bilbo whimpers. "I want you here, it hurts."

Thorin let's out a strangled sound. 

Bofur snatches the phone back, though Bilbo makes no move to stop him. "Alright, I think that's enough for today." He places the phone back against his ear. "He's real drugged up still, Thorin, don't mind him- no, he doesn't hate you, please don't get upset." 

Bilbo sniffles into his pillow louder.

"Oh no, Bilbo you don't start crying." Bofur groans, reaching a hand to pack Bilbo's hip. "No, Thorin, he's not crying- I promise! I'm hanging up now."

Bilbo sees Bofur wince as he swiftly hangs up, slipping the phone away. 

"Now don't you get upset, Bilbo." Bofur says. "Thorin's coming for ya as soon as he can, he loves you very much."

"Okay. What about the munchkins?" Bilbo asks quietly.

"They love you too."

"And the moustache man?"

"I thought I was the moustache man?"

"Oh." Bilbo blinks. "Are you?"

Bofur just sighs. "What did I do to deserve this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned


End file.
